Now Comes the Night
by Helen Pattskyn
Summary: AU House/NCIS/Torchwood. Kutner's suicide, Tim and Abby's engagement, the events of Children of Earth. More inside. COMPLETE
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:**

I apologize for the more than the usual introductory notes on this one.

First, this contains a **MAJOR SPOILER** for House… well, ok, it's two weeks old, but I just caught the episode last night. But just so we're clear, let me repeat that: This chapter contains a **MAJOR SPOILER for House, **for the episode "**Simple Explanation."**

After watching the episode, I felt like I really had to write something. Not "I'm angry I need to re-write it", more like "wow that was awesome television, I need to weave that into my story!"

**AU'verse TIMELINE:**

**T**his takes place **AFTER** Reunion (originally it was set before, please see "new note" added below.)

* * *

**New Note (added 16 July, 2009) **After I saw the previews for Children of Earth, I decided to put this story on hold, because it seemed like a good place to begin weaving in the third "season" (yes, I agree, it's not really a season, but it's what the BBC has been calling it.)

This story seemed a good place for CoE because it effectively split up my version of Torchwood which would make for some more interesting writing, IMHO... to that end, the story is encompassing more than originally intended, as later chapters will show.

I've altered my original timeline for this slightly, to hopefully, help things make more sense. My apologies for any confusion this has caused (although hopefully it's been on hiatus so long, no one remembers where it was supposed to fit in! ;-)

* * *

At this point, it is probably helpful to be familiar with at least some of my past works to really understand this one. There is a timeline up in my profile that should be current and up to date. If anyone spots any mistakes in it, please let me know! Thanks!!

And… not directly related, but important none the less because Ianto's sister has become a more important character in my AU'verse, I decided I should "cast" her, so in the role of Nerys Jones, we now have the lovely Ms. Sara-Jane Potts.

Of course all the usual disclaimers apply. If you recognize the character from television, chances are I don't own it! If I did, Bobby really would be in Cardiff with Jack and Ianto and the rest of the Torchwood Team!

And speaking of which… I've been having a bit of fun lately with Power Point and this is what I made to go along w/ my AU series… remember to take out ALL of the spaces! (there are spaces before and after all regular punctuation marks, including slashes and equal signs.)

http : // s660 . photobucket . com / albums / uu 329 / hbpattskyn /

* * *

**Now Comes the Night**

**Chapter One:**

If they tell you that she died of sleeping pills you must know that she died of a wasting grief, of a slow bleeding at the soul.  
_Clifford Odets_

* * *

Bobby Chase, Torchwood 3's Australian-born medical officer, sagged down to the sofa with a heavy thud. The cushions were soft… black. His girlfriend Wendy's taste, not his. At the moment, however, he was too tired to notice, let alone care that black picked up every bit of lint. Every stray hair. All things considered, having a sofa that showed lint and hair was probably a bad idea…but at the moment, he was even too tired to complain about the red velvet throw pillows or bordello lampshades Abby had given them as a housewarming gift.

A quick glance at the clock sitting on a shelf across the darkened room revealed the time to be barely half nine. Not exactly anybody's idea of late night, just late enough to be dark. Late enough for him to be weary to the bone. He'd been up since eight o'clock yesterday morning. They all had. Every muscle in his body ached and he wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed… maybe into the shower first. He was sure he still reeked of carnivorous Mechanan fungi even though he'd had a shower at the Hub before coming home. He was also sure he was never going to look at fried mushrooms the same way again.

On the upside, the world was still standing. Or… spinning, he supposed. He was just glad he didn't have to endure another night of huge deadly mushrooms. He closed his eyes, intending to just rest there a minute while he tried to summon enough strength to crawl into the bathroom.

In the kitchen, the microwave beeped. Bobby, now softly snoring, didn't hear it. Wendy Shutten removed the cardboard take away containers from two nights ago and emptied their contents onto two plates. She brought the plates and a couple of glasses of wine out to the lounge. She never would have thought she'd pick up useful skills waiting tables, but there really was something to be said for being able to manage two plates and two glasses of wine single-handedly.

"Bobby? You awake, Sweetheart?" she asked in a quiet tone, when she saw Bobby sitting there.

"Barely." He didn't open his eyes, wasn't aware that he hadn't been awake until he heard the sound of her voice.

They had moved out of Ianto's flat into a place of their own a few months back. It was spacious. Comfortable. Modern. They had a fantastic view of the harbour. They even had a balcony and a little patio set and barbecue for cooking on—not that they'd had but a single barbecue over the summer. Even with the addition of Tim, Abby and Sara to the Tochwood roster, it seemed as if there were never enough of them to go around. Jack wasn't sure if the Rift was getting more active, or if maybe they were all just getting too used to supposedly being able to take a day off now and again.

Wendy sat down on the sofa next to the blond medic; she set their food and wine down on the coffee table. Bobby opened one eye and smiled. Even though they were both exhausted, she still looked beautiful. Medium dark skin, long curly hair, brown, almond shaped eyes…those soft lips. He managed to find just enough strength to reach over for her hand; Wendy accepted it readily.

"I think I'm too tired to eat," he told her in an apologetic tone after a moment of just sitting and enjoying the company.

"You'll feel better for it. I even picked out the mushrooms."

He chuckled.

"Didn't want to take any chances," she added.

He laughed a little harder.

His mobile rang; the sound elicited a deeply agonized groan from the Australian.

"It _can't_ be Jack," Wendy groaned as well.

The thought made him grimace. He only hoped the Rift hadn't seen fit to deposit more alien fungi on their doorstep. _Or anything else for that matter. _Just once he'd like the aliens to be friendly, Intergalactic Girl Guides, maybe. That would be a nice change, just somebody selling cookies… _then again with our luck, they'd be poisonous. Or worse. _

Bobby pulled his phone out of his jeans pocket; his frown deepened when he looked at the caller ID. It wasn't work. He recognized the exchange. New Jersey. He knew the number, too—Princeton Plainsboro Teaching Hospital.

He flipped open his phone. "Hello?" He was expecting his old boss, Greg House, or maybe hospital administrator Lisa Cuddy, and was already preparing several excuses to get off the phone with either of them. House would be the problem, of course, he wasn't one to take no for an answer and whatever he wanted, Bobby was sure it wasn't a social call.

But it wasn't House. It wasn't Cuddy, either. "Robert," Alison sounded like she'd been crying. The raggedness of her tone was enough to make him pull himself up into a sitting position. "I know it's late there," she stammered. "I—I'm sorry. I just… I didn't think anyone had called you…"

"Alison, what's wrong?"

Wendy shifted closer to him; she could hear both sides of the conversation.

"Kutner…" on the other end of the line, Alison Cameron stifled a sob.

"What's going on?" Bobby asked her again.

"Kutner… he… he shot himself. Today. A few hours ago. I just… I thought somebody should tell you. I thought I should call. I know it's late, I'm sorry," she babbled again. "I thought you would want to know."

"Yeah. Yeah, thanks. I…" he didn't know what to say. Almost every day they saw people die but rarely was it someone he knew. Had known. Wendy took his hand again and gave a gentle squeeze; he flashed a tight lipped smile. "Are you all right?" he asked Alison.

"I don't know. I mean… it's not like…I didn't really know him but I saw him_ every_ day, Robert!" she started to cry again. "We weren't best friends, but I saw him _every_ **_single _**_day _and I didn't see this coming! No one did! Foreman and Thirteen found him in his apartment…" she crumbled, crying harder. "He didn't come in this morning and they went to check on him and he was… he was already cold…"

"Alison, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," he said the only words he had, even though he knew how painfully inadequate they were. "What happened? Why…?" _Why would anyone do something so stupid…?_

"I don't know. Nobody does."

* * *

**"Now Comes the Night"  
**by Rob Thomas

When the hour is upon us  
And our beauty surely gone  
No you will not be forgotten  
No you will not be alone

And when the day has all but ended  
And our echo starts to fade  
No you will not be alone then  
And you will not be afraid  
No you will not be afraid

When the fog has finally lifted  
From my cold and tired brow  
No I will not leave you crying  
And I will not let you down  
No I will not let you down  
I will not let you down

Now comes the night  
Feel it fading away  
And the soul underneath  
Is it all that remains  
So just slide over here  
Leave your fear in the fray  
Let us hold to each other  
Until the end of our days

When the hour is upon us  
And our beauty surely gone  
No you will not be forgotten  
No you will not be alone  
No you will not be alone


	2. Chapter 2

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**

A/N:

First, thank you! It's always great to wake up to reviews!

Secondly: yes, I will keep updating the other fics, although this week may be a little rough. I have finals and we're getting a new room mate… a friend of ours is moving in and really, I had expected I was too old for room mates, but I wouldn't let a friend get chucked out onto the street either.

Lastly, remember that in my AU, **Amber** is still alive because I think she's much more fun to have around and I really hated what the writers did to her character.

Also, no real knowledge of House should be necessary… since Bobby hasn't been in Jersey in my AU, he's going to have to be filled in on what's been going on, too ;-)

* * *

**Chapter Two:**

"Death is not the greatest loss in life. The greatest loss is what dies inside us while we live."

Norman Cousins

* * *

Wendy took Bobby's hand as they stepped off the plane and into the busy Newark International Airport terminal. Their only sleep in the last forty eight hours had been a brief nap in the Cardiff Terminal waiting for their plane and then on the flight over. Wen was holding up all right, owing to a much greater stamina, but Bobby was running on emotion and adrenaline alone; she knew he was going to collapse any moment now, just as soon as the adrenaline wore off.

She could feel the nervous quaver running through him when the entered the terminal. It had been just over a year since he'd left New Jersey, but she knew it must feel like a lifetime. Maybe two.

He had told her that after Alison refused his marriage proposal—his love—he simply threw his clothes into a duffle bag and headed to the airport. When he got to Cardiff, he went straight to the Hub. Just a few days later, they met. Neither was quite sure when they'd gone from friends and flatmates to friends and flatmates with fringe benefits to being bone fide lovers to falling in love… she never would have expected to be capable of loving a human. But she did. Best of all, he loved her back, accepted her. Wasn't afraid of her, even when she was wearing her other skin.

He had never come back to New Jersey clean up his apartment, he simply hired a cleaning company over the phone and told them to toss out everything he'd left behind. There was nothing he needed that couldn't be replaced. He was sure that someone was enjoying his flat screen TV and stereo. He didn't care. "_It isn't like any of us has to worry about saving for retirement anymore," he'd explained to Wendy when she questioned his decision to just leave it all behind. _His predecessor, Dr Owen Harper, had only lived for five years after joining Torchwood, he sometimes reminded her. Wendy knew that Bobby only got like that when he was feeling melancholy. He was very melancholy at the moment. They all saw so much death, every day… every week. Bobby in particular seemed to get the brunt of it. He got the remains of aliens and humans alike on his autopsy table. He visited the facility out on Flat Holm Island at least once a week to check up on patients. They weren't dead, but they were dying. Fast or slow, all of them were dying… of course realistically everyone on the planet was dying, one day at a time. All but Jack, of course.

Wendy gave Bobby's hand a gentle squeeze.

He smiled. "Thanks. You really didn't have to come with me."

"Yes I did." She was just glad Jack had given them both the time off—not necessarily surprised, but glad just the same.

"_Don't worry about the Hub," the Captain told them. "We've manned the fort with fewer people. Just go. The Rift will be here when you get back, I promise." _

Bobby leant over, "there she is," he said, to Wendy, nodding towards a ginger haired woman who seemed to have just seen them, too.

"Amber!" he called out her name, but before he could say another word, she had pushed her way through the crowd and was wrapping her arms around him in a very un-Amber-like display of warmth. He dropped his carry on bag and hugged her back, held her tight. Neither of them had known Kutner well, but she had worked with him, interviewed with him for the fellowship under House.

"I'm sorry," Amber apologized as she pulled back. "I'm not usually like this," she flashed an embarrassed looking smile in Wendy's direction.

"Don't be sorry," Bobby told her. "It's all right to be upset."

"Damn it. Damn _him!"_ she muttered angrily. "I'm not upset, I'm pissed!" she informed them.

Bobby smiled. That was the Amber he knew, the woman House had less than affectionately nick-named Cutthroat Bitch.

Of the twenty or so doctors who had interviewed for only three openings on House's team, she was by far the most ambitious. It had never particularly surprised Bobby that she hadn't gotten the fellowship position (one thing House couldn't stand was someone more ruthless than himself), although honestly he liked her better after she'd been refused the job than he ever had when she was trying to get it.

She forced a brighter smile, though clearly it _was_ forced. "I'm Amber Wilson," she held out her hand to the woman standing next to her former colleague. Or… almost colleague.

"Amber, this is Wendy Shutten," Bobby finished off the introductions even as the two of them were shaking hands. He'd been invited to Amber and James Wilson's wedding, of course. He would have taken Wendy if he'd gone. But in the wake of the Dalek attack on earth, neither of them could get away. It wasn't just the UK in pandemonium, it was the whole world; with regret that was obvious, Jack had to tell them he needed them in Cardiff. They both had understood.

"It's nice to meet you," Wendy said to Amber in a quiet, congenial tone. "I've heard a great deal about you."

"Oh, God, you hate me already, don't you?" the ginger haired doctor surprised Bobby by teasing.

Wendy just smiled, "It's all been good, I promise," she fibbed. She was pretty sure it had simply been honest.

"So he's lied to you," Amber favoured Bobby with a sly little smile. "And I didn't even have to bribe him."

Wendy chuckled.

Bobby cleared his throat, "We should probably find our luggage…" he began. He had been afraid that Amber and Wendy wouldn't get along at all, but having them seeming to do just fine frightened him just as much as if they'd hated each other at first sight. Perhaps it frightened him more…

"I'll get our gear," Wendy told him.

"Wen…"

She shot him a look. "I'll get it," she repeated in a firm tone.

He sighed and nodded. There was no fighting her and he knew it.

Amber chuckled as the dark skinned woman made her exit. "Wow. I'm impressed. A woman who won't be pushed over by some over macho Aussie cowboy."

"I am not…!"

She just laughed a little harder.

Bobby sighed. There was definitely no winning today. "How are you and Wilson holding up?" he asked her, as they moved out of the off to the side, to get out of other people's way.

Amber shrugged. "He's trying to deal with Cuddy who wants him to deal House, not that he can right now because he's trying to process it himself. Cuddy hired a grief councillor. None of them have gone of course. She even offered them time off. I'm sure I don't have to tell you that no one took any," she shook her head. "Damn him," she muttered again, her glaze falling momentarily to the floor beneath her shoes as she shook her head, the anger she was feeling palpable. "House wouldn't even pass on the case they started before… before that little idiot blew his brains out," she told him bitterly.

"I take it no one knows why he did it?" Bobby asked. He'd gotten call from Alison only yesterday, but a lot could change in a day. If Kunter kept a diary, or a had blog… but Amber's expression said clearly that no had any idea what had been going on in his head when he decided to put a bullet through it.

"For a while House was trying to say he was murdered. He wasn't," she added quickly to the look that crossed the blond man's face. She could see by his expression that he might not have minded jumping on that bandwagon, too. Anything to assuage the guilt most of Kutner's friends… colleagues… were feeling at not having noticed that apparently he was depressed enough with his life to want to end it.

House was right, they worked with the man eighty hours a week, and yet not **_one_** of them had picked up on the fact that he was suicidal… as if all suicides were committed by people wearing signs around their necks that read 'tomorrow morning at 9am, I'm going to shoot myself in the temple. Have a nice day.'

"He shot _himself_," she told Bobby in a firm tone, just to drive the point home.

"Sorry," he apologized, easily assessing her thought process. "So how are _you _holding up?" he asked again, having realized Amber had only said how Wilson was doing.

She crossed her arms over her chest. "I'm with Taub. Kutner was a selfish little bastard who couldn't be bothered to reach out to people he knew would have helped him if he'd taken the time to ask. I don't feel guilty about not seeing what he didn't want anybody to see—besides it's not like _I_ saw him eighty hours a week." She'd been fired… or not hired… although in retrospect, she was glad she didn't work for House. She was glad she'd 'interviewed' with him, however, if one could really call taking four months out of her life to work for next to nothing, for an egomaniacal sadomasochist an 'interview'. But in a totally twisted sort of way, she owed the best thing to have ever happened to her, meeting James Wilson, to Dr Greg House. Not that she would ever tell him that.

"I don't feel sorry for Kutner," she told House's former employee. "I'm just angry at him."

"That's a natural reaction."

She shot him a look.

"Sorry. Part of being a doctor is… Hell, you know what it is."

Her grimace turned upwards a bit. "Yeah. I do. Not that any of us has any idea what you're doing these days, 'Bobby' Chase," she added with an almost devious smirk. It reminded him way too much of the way Jack sometimes looked when he was up to something.

Fortunately, he was saved from having to think about it too much by Wendy's return. He stepped towards her and took his bag off from her shoulder. He really didn't mind having a girlfriend who was stronger than he was, even in her human skin, but he felt like a slob when she insisted on doing things like getting both their gear. Sometimes he wondered if she knew that and was just showing off because she knew it bothered him. Still, if that was her worst trait, he could live with it.

He leant in and kissed her cheek softly before turning back to Amber. "Thanks again for putting us up. We really could have stayed in a hotel." He had been taken completely by surprise when Amber extended the invitation to him. He'd only called to find out about the funeral arrangements.

"But if you'd stayed at a hotel, I'd never get to spend time with you," Amber flashed a sly little grin at the pair of them.

Bobby stifled a groan. He reached over and took Wendy's hand, more glad than ever that she was here with him.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:**

Ok, I _**think**_ I got the time difference/flight time, and so forth sorted out correctly ;-)

* * *

**Chapter Three**

"Life is partly what we make it, and partly what it is made by the friends we choose."

Tennessee Williams

* * *

After the Daleks had lain siege to most of the populated areas of the planet, James Wilson had done what so many others had. He'd moved out of the city, although in his case, he hadn't moved so far that the commute to his job was unbearable. He'd also asked the woman he loved to marry him. It was a good move. A good year. A good change. At the moment, he wasn't sure the same could be said for the man standing on the other side of his threshold.

"You look like shit," he couldn't help but blurt out when he greeted his wife and guests at the door. The statement was aimed at Robert, 'Bobby', Chase. It didn't look like Chase had slept in days, shaved in the last week or cut his hair in a year.

The Australian merely smiled, "Nice to see you too. James." He used the other man's first name for possibly the first time ever. All things considered, it seemed appropriate. Wilson's shirt sleeves were rolled up, his tie had probably abandoned hours ago. He had a towel slung over one shoulder and the smell of lasagne and garlic bread wafted out from the kitchen. Despite the fact that it was nearly midnight in New Jersey, he was the perfect picture of casual domesticity.

"Sorry," he apologized for his outburst, although he felt compelled to do so as much by Bobby's response as by Amber's glower. "It's been a long day," he said needlessly, moving aside to let them further into the lounge.

"Tell me about it," the Australian agreed, seemingly unfazed by his assessment. "I'd like you to meet my girlfriend, Wendy Shutten. Wendy this is James Wilson."

"It's a pleasure to meet you," he extended his hand to the exotic beauty standing next to Chase; she looked like she did most of her shopping in Stevie Nicks' old hippie wardrobe, but the combination of leather, lace and patchouli oil worked for the tall dark skinned woman in a way that it wouldn't have worked for most people. "I wish the circumstances were better," he added with a tight, grim little smile. The first he'd heard of the other man having a girlfriend was when he suggested to Chase that he could stay with him and Amber and the Australian rather reluctantly said he wasn't making the trip alone.

"I'm so sorry to hear about your colleague, Dr Wilson," Wendy said by way of greeting. "It must have been a terrible blow for everyone who knew Dr Kutner," she turned so that her gaze included Amber as well. She was soft spoken, it seemed, but had a firm, warm grip when she shook his hand and a friendly smile.

"Thank you. But please, call me James."

"I'll show you guys up to the guest room," Amber suggested, "and then if you're hungry…" she shot her husband a glare that only he would realize wasn't half as harsh as it looked. She_ had_ told him not to cook, that Wendy and Bobby would probably just want to get some sleep, but she hadn't actually expected him to listen to her.

He offered up an apologetic shrug to her reproachful glare. He'd needed something to do with himself and he wasn't sure Chase and his girlfriend would have had time for dinner… breakfast… they must have gotten on the first plane heading out of the UK as soon as they got the news to have arrived when they did.

Upstairs, Amber pointed out the bathroom and linen closet, in case they needed an extra blanket. "There's extra towels under the sink in the bathroom," she added. "Help yourselves to whatever you need."

"Thanks, Amber," Bobby told her sincerely. This was a side of the ambitious young doctor he'd never seen before. He was finding it a bit unnerving.

She just smirked, almost as if she could figure out what he was thinking… but maybe it was obvious. "You're welcome." She left them to settle in.

Bobby waited until the door had clicked quietly shut behind her to encircle Wendy in his arms. "Are you all right?" he asked. He knew that she didn't cope will with sudden changes.

"I'm fine," she promised. "I can handle this."

"I know… you know… people. Strangers…" he hesitated. She had lived most of her life around humans, something most of her kind didn't do, but she still sometimes found it difficult. Even if they didn't know she wasn't anything more than she appeared to be, Wendy knew.

"I'm fine, honestly. They seem nice."

"Wilson is. Amber… Amber's hard to explain."

"Well I think she's nice."

He shook his head. "Don't let her fool you. House didn't start calling her Cutthroat Bitch for nothing."

"I think if it comes down to it, my teeth are sharper than hers," she teased.

He chuckled, "Well let's hope it doesn't come down to anything like that," he brushed his lips against hers. "Have I mentioned how beautiful you are?"

"Not in the last few hours, at least."

"You're beautiful. And I love you."

"I love you too."

"Thank you. For doing this with me. I really don't think… I don't think I could do this without you."

"Yes you could. But I wouldn't have let you come alone."

…………………………………………………………

Ten minutes later Bobby and James, each with a bottle of beer in hand, were settling in at the dining room table; Amber offered to get the lasagne, since James had done the cooking. Wendy offered to give her a hand, which seemed to please their hostess. Bobby suspected Amber was going to use the opportunity to pump Wendy for more information about them. About Torchwood.

"So I hear it's 'Bobby' these days?" James asked with a quizzical look as they sat down at the table.

The other shrugged. There had been a time he wouldn't have dreamed of letting anyone _ever_ call him 'Bobby', but a battle with Jack over a name wasn't worth the bother. It was one he'd lose and he knew it, so why even engage in it? "My boss's idea," he stated simply, taking a swig off his beer. "After he started… it just kind of stuck. Trust me. It wasn't worth arguing over. When Jack sets his mind to something, there's no dissuading him," he rolled his eyes. He would have an easier time winning an argument with Janet than with Jack Harkness.

"He sounds like a real charmer."

He chuckled. "You have _no_ idea."

"Oh?"

He just shook his head. Some things didn't bear getting into.

"So how've you been?" James asked him, taking a sip from his own bottle. "Other than all this," he added.

"Other than this, things have been really good," Bobby told him earnestly. "I love my job. I love my girlfriend—"

"Not in that order I hope."

The Australian chuckled, "Not if I like my body parts where God intended them."

"You do look like Hell," he pointed out, then. (Wilson's slight waver at the mention of God wasn't lost on the man sitting across from him, but neither addressed the issue. Everyone who knew Robert knew that at one point he had seriously considered going into the clergy. Everyone who watched the news knew that after the Dalek invasion, some people were flocking to churches, synagogues and mosques, while others were deserting them.)

So Bobby just smiled. He'd looked worse than this working for House and they both knew it. "It's been a rough couple of days at work is all. Wendy just wears it better than I do."

"You two work together?" he sounded surprised.

Bobby nodded and drank some more of his beer. As Abby would say, Torchwood did not have a Rule Number Twelve.

"Is she a doctor, too?" James wanted to know.

"I'm the only physician on staff." There hardly seemed any reason to lie about that.

"So… it's not a medical facility?"

The blond leant back in his chair considering his reply a moment before answering. "I handle autopsies mostly. Bandage up the occasional scraped knee. I think Jack only keeps a real doctor around to keep the rest of the team from moaning about his first aid skills. Which do leave a bit to be desired," he added with a wry grin, drinking some more of his beer. He'd been on the receiving end of Jack's ministrations a time or two. Battlefield triage was an understatement.

Before James could inquire further, however, Amber and Wendy returned from the kitchen with the lasagne, garlic bread, a bowl of salad and a bottle of wine. Food and wine were served up and the conversation drifted to small talk, the weather, how various members of the hospital were doing. It took little time to get to the subject of Foreman and Thirteen's relationship, a revelation that Bobby found incredible. Inconceivable, even. And not just from Foreman's end.

"What the Hell did she slip into his cool aid?" he wondered with a laugh. James chuckled, too.

"He pursued her," Amber told him. "I know, I wouldn't have pictured it either," she added. "Stick-up-his-butt Foreman and _Thirteen_… but it's been a few months now." She drained the last of the wine from her glass. "They seem… happy. I guess opposites attract," she gave James a sly little smile across the table.

"Why does everybody call her Thirteen?" queried Wendy.

"House assigned us all numbers when we were interviewing for the fellowship position," said Amber, before James could jump in and sugar coat it. "He couldn't be bothered to learn names," she explained. "Although it didn't take long for me to get nicknamed 'Cutthroat bitch,'" she sounded proud of her moniker. "I'm still not sure he knows my real name."

"He does too," James defended him. "And you can't say he wasn't perfectly… decent… at our wedding." Although 'decent' was the best word he could come up with. Still, it hadn't been a _complete_ disaster…

"I thought the earth was going to open up and spit out the Four Horsemen," Amber intoned. "The day anyone saw Greg House acting like something that almost resembled a real human being _had_ to be a sign of the Apocalypse."

Bobby laughed. He reckoned House was just afraid of what she would do to him if he screwed up her big day. Not that he was going to say as much out loud. He turned to Wendy, "I think Thirteen decided she could beat House at his own game if she went along with it."

"A couple of weeks in, she taped over her name on her nametag and wrote in 'Thirteen'," said Amber.

"It sounds… like an interesting place to work," the other woman replied.

Bobby nearly lost his composure. "As compared to what?" _Weevils and pterodactyls? _He didn't say it aloud, of course, but he knew she knew what he was thinking.

"Well at most of the jobs I've had people didn't go about calling each other by number or things like…" she hesitated, but no, clearly Amber was not offended by the 'nickname'. "Cutthroat Bitch."

"You haven't met House," was all Amber had to say on the subject. She refilled her glass and offered more to her guests as well.

"We should probably get some sleep," Bobby told her; he didn't want to discuss his former boss any more,_ or_ give James and Amber the chance to ask too many questions about where he and Wendy worked. He especially didn't want to get asked questions when he was over tired and starting to feel the alcohol. Besides, he was going to need all the sleep he could get if he was going to face House tomorrow…today. It was almost two o'clock in the morning. "Can I give you a hand with the clean up?" he asked of his hosts.

"We've got it," James told him. Bobby looked a little better for the meal, but he still looked as if he must be dead on his feet.

"Thanks again for putting us up," he said as he stood. Wendy took his hand and followed him up the stair, after bidding their hosts a quiet good night.

Amber followed James into the kitchen. "Well. She's an improvement on Cameron."

He gave her a look. She returned it.

"I thought you liked Cameron," he said at last, as he loaded the dishes she handed him into the dishwasher.

"She's too… weasely."

"Weasely?"

"Manipulative is too strong a word. House is manipulative. Cameron is just childish."

"Childish?"

"Childish," she affirmed.

He decided it was probably wiser to just drop it. "So did you and Wendy talk about anything interesting in here?" he asked instead.

"Not really. But I'm going to take her out tomorrow… the last thing she needs is walk into that hospital with Bobby," told said to the look he was giving her. "Besides, I like her."

James Wilson bit his tongue on the speculation that the day his wife liked someone she'd just met was the day those Four Horsemen decided to put in their appearance after all…

* * *

A/N:

Yes, after some internal debate, I think there will be aliens or alien tech somewhere… I just haven't decided what or where yet. ;-) Thank you as always for the lovely reviews! I so very much appreciate them and for those who are familiar with House, thank you for bearing with the last couple of chapters of backstory and explanations… it seemed less cumbersome than putting in extended author's notes.

**Next up:** House and Cameron…


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N:  
**ok, so the first part of this chapter is one of my personal little fantasies… sounds kinkier than it really is! '-)

* * *

**Chapter Four**

The turning point in the process of growing up is when you discover the core of strength within you that survives all hurt.

~Max Lerner,

* * *

"So, Bobby," House popped the 'b's in the younger man's name, "how are things with the Men in Black these days?" He greeted his former employee in a snide tone, heedless of the startled looks from both Chris Taub and Thirteen, neither of whom had any idea where exactly Chase had been the last year, just that he'd taken a job in the UK after a remarkably quiet break up with Alison Cameron.

Before Chase had entered the glassed in conference room, House, Thirteen and Taub had been discussing Eric Foreman's unexpected absence—or more to the point, House had been discussing it. Taub had been trying to discuss the case. Thirteen was trying not to look surprised by Foreman's absence, although clearly it did come as a complete surprise to her that he wasn't coming in today. Apparently House was right, girlfriends really were the last to find out anything.

The Australian didn't flinch at his former boss's 'Men in Black' comment or the way he'd said his name. He knew both were intended to draw a reaction from him, but he was finding himself incredibly un-intimidated by the older man. After facing the sorts of things he faced day in and day out in Cardiff, House just wasn't frightening any more. It was an incredibly liberating feeling.

Bobby smiled. "Men in Black was just a movie, but if you're asking about my job, work is going great, thanks," he helped himself to a cup of coffee, ignoring Taub and Thirteen's incredulous looks. "You're one short," he observed.

"Foreman decided to take play hooky. Wuss. But hey, since I'm a man down, you feel like jumping in?" House's tone remained glib. "If you're good enough for the British Government…"

"I don't work for the government. And didn't you fire me?" he inquired.

"Yeah, but then you had to go and hook up with somebody who has cooler toys. Do they let you carry a gun?"

"Sometimes," he shrugged, leaning against the counter. He was wearing jeans, a soft cotton shirt, a tie. Red trainers. His usual attire now that he no longer worked in a hospital. He had shaved this morning, but only because he was going go swing by the funeral home later on. Likewise he'd pulled his hair into a short pony tail.

Taub opened his mouth to try and get them back to the subject of the patient—the _dying_ patient—but House was too fast:

"Does it shoot lasers?" he asked their visitor; clearly he was enjoying himself.

The Australian rolled his eyes. "I prefer a Beretta nine millimetre, actually," he answered in an amused sounding tone, wondering if House knew the first thing about guns… then again, nothing would really surprise him. "It's a bit less conspicuous and easier to get through customs. But I don't have anything to make up for, either," he added with a wicked little grin, "so I don't **_need_** a bigger gun."

Thirteen nearly blushed. Bobby smirked; if Wendy were there, she would tell him that he had been spending way too much time with their Captain lately. He pulled out a chair but instead of sitting in it properly, he turned it round backwards so that the back was to the table. He swung one leg over the seat and sat, perching his chin on the back of the chair. "What's your case?" he queried.

"Husband with a few weeks to live is getting better while the wife, who was healthy up until a couple days ago, is dying," House told him. "You in?"

"Sure," he swivelled his chair around to have a look at the whiteboard where a list of symptoms for both patients were listed, the husband's in one column, the wife's in the other.

"Of course it's not as interesting as your alien angel dust," House remarked in an offhanded tone, just to see if Chase would react. He didn't. "You have any more of that stuff lying around the ol' MIB HQ?"

"Nope. We had a thing with some giant mushrooms recently, though," he said over his shoulder. "But a vat of batter and a giant deep fat fryer did the trick," he smirked at his former employer in a way that left even House thinking he must be making that up. Which was partly true. They hadn't scared the large, carnivorous alien fungoid off with the threat of being deep-fat fried to death, although Ianto had suggested it at one point, just to be flippant. Or maybe to see Jack smile.

"And I told you, Men in Black is just a movie," Bobby reiterated, taking a sip of his coffee; Ianto's it wasn't. "God, what the Hell is this stuff?" But maybe he was just spoiled.

"So what… MI6?" House wasn't ready to let go of his tangent.

"According to my boss, MI6 are a bunch of amateurs," replied, giving the cup in his hand another disdainful look. "Personally, I wouldn't know, I've never had the pleasure."

"CIA?"

"_Definitely_ amateurs." The CIA had once contracted House to diagnose one of their officers—almost no one at the hospital had believed him, of course.

Bobby made a second attempt to drink his coffee, but it was useless. He set the mug down. He wouldn't even feed that swill to Janet…not that he thought feeding caffeine to a Weevil was necessarily a good idea. Just the same, whatever they ate in the sewers would be preferable to the stuff in his cup.

"You know anything about Area 51?" House persisted.

"Does anybody care about the patient?" Taub wanted to know. Nobody was paying attention.

"I've never been there, honestly," the Australian replied to House's question. "But my best guess is that it's a perfectly ordinary top-secret military research facility." His tone remained nonchalant.

The senior doctor grinned. "Jersey Devil?" he inquired, brows raised.

The other chuckled. "Now you're reaching," but at least it meant House had come to the end of his tangent. There wasn't anywhere else for him to go. "But I could ask Liz. Dr. Elizabeth Shaw, former UNIT science advisor and current head of PROBE, a paranormal research group out of London."

"Impressive," the diagnostician conceded. "You have an answer for everything."

"Not really," Bobby turned his attention back to the whiteboard, looking more closely over the patients' symptoms. "Have you checked the wife for RA?" he inquired. Across the table, Thirteen shifted, drawing his attention away from the board again. He followed her gaze.

Alison Cameron was walking past the conference room.

She stopped dead in her tracks as soon as she saw who was sitting in with House's team. Her jaw slacked open just slightly.

"I… think I need to get some coffee," Taub began awkwardly, accurately assessing the situation. Cameron _wasn't _expecting to see Chase.

"We have coffee right here," House informed him, as Cameron turned towards the door.

"You heard the man, it's crap," Taub was quicker on the uptake than usual. "Dr Hadly?" he asked in Thirteen's direction.

"Yeah. Coffee sounds great," she got to her feet, gathering up the paperwork in front of her as quickly as she could. It didn't take a genius like House to see that Cameron had had no idea Chase was in town. She had no doubts that it _wasn't_ an oversight on House's part, either; he'd been expecting something like this, probably hoping for it.

Chase got to his feet as his ex girlfriend came in the door; he forced a smile. He'd known he would run into her eventually, he'd just hoped it would be him going to see her, say hello, rather than her finding him first. _But we don't always get what we want,_ he reminded himself, shoving his hands into his pockets. If people did get what they wanted more of the time, there would be fewer aliens on Earth. He also supposed that if he'd called her, stopped in to the Emergency Room first, instead of putting it off, things would be feeling a little less awkward at the moment…

"**_House_**_,_" Thirteen stopped at the door. "Are you coming?" it was only barely a question.

"Spoil sports." Begrudgingly, he got to his feet as well. "Hey," he said before heading out, "Don't forget to tell her about your girlfriend. Bobby." He popped the 'b's' again. "Wilson tells me she's quite a looker," he added with raised brows.

Alison waited until House and the others had gone before asking Chase what he was doing in New Jersey.

"You called me, remember?" he answered in an incredulous tone.

"Yeah… to… to tell you about Kutner. I didn't think… you have a girlfriend?"

"You've met her, actually," he told her honestly—no use lying when she'd figure it out for herself as soon as she saw her, anyway. "Wendy Shutten," he explained. It was definitely better to get that detail out of the way as soon as possible.

Alison blinked. "I thought… " she wasn't sure what she thought. At first she'd thought Wendy was with the one guy but then it became incredibly clear that he was really with Jack, their boss, which didn't bother her exactly, except that something about Jack bothered her just a little bit… although really the night she'd met Robert's co-workers was a bit of a blur. The only thing she remembered clearly was him telling her to get on a plane and go back to New Jersey. "Is she the reason you stayed?" she asked him.

"I told you why I stayed, Alison," he took a step towards her, but only a step. "I love my job. Just like you love yours. Wendy and I didn't start seeing each other until... seven or eight months ago, I guess." He shrugged.

It was difficult to tell when exactly they'd gone from being friends with fringe benefits to very good friends with very good fringe benefits to something a little more serious… a _lot_ more serious. It had happened gradually… quickly… it was like waking up one morning and suddenly realizing he was in love with the woman sleeping next to him. Realizing the feeling was mutual. Alison's voice pulled him out of his reverie:

"So it's serious?"

He shrugged. "I suppose."

"You suppose?" She looked startled.

He gave over half a smile. "I love her. She loves me. We've got a place together. Neither of us has any plans to see anybody else," he explained it as simply and painlessly as he could.

"I… I guess that's serious then."

"I guess it is," he agreed.

"You don't sound…"

"My life is complicated, Alison. But I know who I'm in love with." His tone left no room for argument. "More importantly, I know she loves me. I'm not left twisting in the wind, trying to _guess_ my way blindly through a relationship. She tells me exactly where I stand with her. And it's exactly where I want to be standing."

Alison drew in a breath and looked away. "I deserved that," she told him softly.

"I'm sorry…"

"No. No, I deserved it," she repeated, meeting his gaze again. "And I'm sorry I did that to you. You didn't deserve it."

"I'm sure… look, I know your life is complicated too. You did what you thought was best for you in the moment. No one should fault you for that, least of all me," he moved in closer. "We had some really good times, you know."

"Did we?"

"Yeah," he smiled, laying his hands lightly on her arms. "We did." He leant in and brushed his lips against her cheek, conscious of the way she moved in closer, but not reciprocal. He held her lightly, just at arms' length. "I loved you."

"But not any more, huh?"

"I will always care about you, Alison. But I love somebody else. I'm in love with her. It's a good feeling."

"I… I'm happy for you," she told him at last, although her tone betrayed that it was less than the truth.

He gave over a tight lipped smile. "I'm going to go see if the coffee in the cafeteria is any better than this garbage," he nodded at the coffee pot in House's conference room. "Can I buy you a cup?"

"I… I was on my way to see Dr Cronin… new guy," she explained to his questioning look. "But I… I guess… I guess I'll see you around… how long are you in town?"

"Just a couple of days."

She nodded.

He turned to leave.

"Robert… or Bobby?" she asked in an earnest tone.

He turned to face her again. "Either is fine."

"All right. I… I'll see you." She told him. Watching him walk away, she realized that something in him had changed. It was the way he carried himself. He stood taller, she thought. Walked with a purpose. _He seems genuinely happy… _she took a deep breath and let it out. She walked out of the conference room and continued on her way towards her original destination…


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N:**

Sorry this is such a little tiny chapter… the Muses are at work again, doing strange things, partially in response to a recent request (although several people have asked for the same thing.)

So… the rest of this story will move between New Jersey, DC, and Cardiff, and will answer a request for "more Gibbs." It will also work in the accounts of Children of Earth, which I have not seen yet, or read even one single spoiler… I'm (im)patiently waiting for the 20th!

* * *

**Chapter Five –  
on the Other Side of the Atlantic… **

"_A friend is someone who understands your past,  
believes in your future,  
and accepts you just the way you are.__"_

Author unknown

* * *

"You want _me_…?" Donald 'Ducky' Mallard gaped at the black haired, green eyed woman sitting across from him in the little café in Haddington, the small town about twenty miles from Edinburgh, Scotland, to which he had retired last year. She'd driven up from Cardiff to see him, entirely unexpectedly of course, although the unexpected _was_ the expected when it came to Abigail Schuito and Ducky knew it. "I'm flattered, of course, but are you quite certain about this, my dear?" he queried.

"Yes, absolutely."

"What about Jethro—or Jack?"

"See, that's my problem!" she explained, her outburst disturbing the otherwise quiet room. She ducked her head and lowered her voice. Not that her over all appearance hadn't caused a bit of a stir when she walked in the door. Snug black pants full of zippers and clunky black boots that looked as if they might have been stolen from Gene Simmons' wardrobe weren't the norm in Hadington. "Ducky, if I ask Gibbs, it would hurt Jack's feelings, and if I ask Jack, I would hurt _Gibbs' _feelings. I can't hurt their feelings, I love them! But they can't both walk me up the aisle! Neither of them would be upset if you did it, they both love you—well, you know," she said. She had her suspicions about just exactly how Jack Harkness loved Ducky, but she would really rather not go there. Gibbs loved him in an entirely plutonic way, and vice versa. "I hope you don't feel like my third choice are something," she added quickly. "Because you're totally not."

Ducky chuckled and sipped his tea. "I would be flattered even if I were your third choice, Abigail," he assured her. "And I suppose in the effort to keep the peace—or at least to prevent bruised feelings—I would be delighted to give you away," he told her honestly. He could easily imagine what it would do to either Jack's or Jethro's delicate—not to mention over inflated—egos to have Abby chose one man over the other. Not that either would admit to ever either a delicate or an inflated ego, mind… he sighed. He wasn't entirely certain he wanted to get Jack and Jethro in the same room together. Either they would get along famously or it would be a complete and utter disaster… _but perhaps for Abby, they'll both behave themselves. _Stranger things had happened. They'd even managed to get through last Christmas without anything more serious happening than a few Blowfish landing in Cardiff. "Have you set the date yet?" he inquired.

She nodded, grinning a broad red lipsticked grin. "Next month. The thirty first! It's a Saturday. Ianto helped me get everything booked," she added. She never could have done it without him. "But you have to promise not to say anything to Gibbs," she told Ducky in a pleading tone.

He gave over an inquisitive look.

"Jack said that since it's been so quiet, he can spare me and Timmy for a weekend—even though Bobby and Wendy are in New Jersey. They should be back on Saturday, anyway. We're leaving for DC first thing in the morning. Gibbs doesn't know we're coming. Heck, I didn't know we were going until this morning when I told Jack I was driving up to see you to give you the news. That's when he said we could take a couple of days to go tell Gibbs in person too."

"Far be it from me to ruin the surprise," he agreed. "However, I insist that you give me all the details. How did Timothy propose?"

Abby gave him a sly little look. "It was very… Timmy," she grinned at him.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: **

The Muses continue to dance in my head… although realistically, I did need to wrap up Kutner's funeral...

**Important Note: **I've altered my original timeline for this story slightly (originally this was set BEFORE my story Reunion, but what I realized is that it should probably take place **after** because of the nature of the events of CoE… and no, I haven't seen it yet, I'm just assuming it's pretty big.)

I did break my promise to myself and read just a few tiny spoiler threads on one of the Doctor Who lists I'm on (no, **no** spoilers here, just the personally very surprised comment that the reception for CoE, at least on that particular list, has been truly dreadful, they hated it, which seems at odds with other things I've heard... unfortunately, the link sent by the very kind reader didn't come through. FF zaps out external links on offical communications... but it's just a few more days now. The only reason I'd consider watching it "early" is to see the whole thing in one go!)

* * *

**Chapter Six**

"One owes respect to the Living.  
To the Dead, one owes only Truth."

Voltaire

* * *

Bobby found his former boss in the latter's office, staring at the whiteboard on which he'd jotted down every conceivable reason he could think of for one person to kill another. It was the whiteboard he usually used to write down symptoms, a habit Bobby had picked up and taken with him to Cardiff.

"It wasn't murder, you know," the Australian said. He was dressed in a black suit, dark tie, pastel shirt. Dress shoes. "Kutner…"

"I know," House cut him off. "The idiot shot himself."

Bobby crossed the distance between them and perched himself on the edge of the other man's desk. "Are you coming to the funeral?"

"No. And don't they use chairs in Cardiff? Or are the Welsh just that uncivilized?"

He chuckled. "Wales is a perfectly civilized country, thank you." He picked up the small rubber ball House kept on his desk and began tossing it lightly up into the air and catching it.

House snatched it away. "Get your own."

"Maybe I will," he smirked. Although on second thought, he wondered if it was too small, a possible choking hazard to Torchwood's pet pterodactyl, because goodness knew that dinosaur had no concept of 'not yours'. The last time he'd cleaned out her alcove, Bobby found one of Jack's shoes, a tie of Ianto's that had gone missing when he still lived in the Hub, and two deflated basket balls. Myfanwy was more like a bloody magpie than flying reptile… not that dinosaurs were really exactly reptiles… "So why aren't you going to the funeral?" he asked, rather than spend any more time contemplating the Hub's pet.

"Funerals make me cranky."

The younger man rolled his eyes. Truthfully, he hadn't expected House to attend, he just wondered what his excuse was going to be. "How's your patient?"

"Dying. Both of them," he said, slamming the ball hard against the wall…it ricocheted off and he caught it. Realized how hard he'd thrown it. House landed his next hit a little lighter. He wasn't used to losing. They'd diagnosed the wife, but it was too late to reverse her condition. The husband had always been dying, he just did it a little slower for a few days.

"I'm sorry," Bobby told him with sincerity.

House shrugged. "You win some, you lose some."

"Still, you lost three in one week—"

"Kutner _wasn't _my patient. He wasn't my friend, either—Bobby," he informed the blond, popping the 'b's deliberately.

It didn't faze him. "Yes he was. You said it yourself, you saw him every day—"

"That doesn't mean I feel guilty for him killing himself," House cut him off, his tone bitter.

"I never said it did. Or that it should." He got up. "A couple of us are going out for drinks later. Wanna come?"

"No," said House, but they both knew he would show up anyway. It would be his last chance to attempt to pump his former colleague for more information about his job with Torchwood. Tomorrow Bobby and Wendy were headed back to Cardiff.

* * *

Tim McGee glanced at the woman sitting in the seat next to him, engrossed in a graphic novel she'd borrowed from Jack. He smiled. They were flying business class from Cardiff to D.C.—and he had a flock of pterodactyls flapping around in his gut over the trip.

It wasn't flying. It wasn't even the nagging fear that aliens would descend on Cardiff while _four _of the team were on the other side of the Atlantic—besides Bobby and Wendy would be back late tomorrow, he reminded himself. What could possibly happen in…he glanced at his watch...in just a little over twenty four hours? Jack, Ianto, Mickey, Sara and Gwen could man the Hub and manage 'Rift gifts' for that long on their own, even if Ianto was still officially on family leave and Gwen was on light duty owing to being pregnant again. Jack had done it with only three other people for almost three whole years before signing Ianto and then Gwen onto his team. Torchwood and Cardiff would be fine for a few days without him and Abby. (He knew how he sounded, even to himself, but really, what could possibly happen in twenty four hours? And even something did happen, they could be back in less than a day.)

It was time to think about something else.

_Mrs. Abigail McGee…_ or would she keep her last name? Abby McGee didn't have quite the same ring to it as Abby Scuito, that was for sure. She didn't even look like somebody who should be called Missus anything, but McGee? She didn't look like a McGee. Maybe she'd do like Gwen and Ianto, both of whom had adopted their respective spouses' surnames officially (although in the Welshman's case, he'd hyphenated), even if unofficially they usually used their own original names. He had to admit, introducing oneself as Ianto Jones-Harkness was a bit of a mouthful at parties… or at least that was what Ianto said. Jack didn't seem to mind that his partner usually just used 'Jones'. If Jack didn't mind, he shouldn't mind, either, he decided. Abby could call herself whatever she wanted to.

"What?" she asked suddenly, glaring over at him. "Is my eyeliner smeared or something? Do I have gunk on my shirt?" she demanded.

"No! No, of course not, you look beautiful."

"Of course I do," she informed him with a playful grin. They were mid-way between Cardiff and Washington D.C., flying over the Atlantic, not that anyone could see the ocean for the heavy cloud cover. "You're still not being all weird about me wanting to meet Henry are you?" she asked, her eyes narrowing suspiciously. She hadn't really been serious about dropping in on Jack's friend while they were in the states—Toronto wasn't really that close to D.C., it was just closer than Cardiff. And anyway, she'd told Timmy a million times there was no reason for him to be jealous. She loved Henry Fitzroy's writing, his art—she'd loved his work long before she knew he and Jack used to have a thing (and what a sexy picture that painted in her mind!) But she wasn't about to make a play for the guy, even after finding out that he was a real live vampire. Or…real dead vampire… real undead vampire?

"No," Tim lied, "I'm not being 'weird'." He sounded defensive even to himself. "I just… I wonder what the fascination is, that's all."

"Timmy!" she looked around. The cabin wasn't exactly crowded, but still… she lowered her voice. "He was almost the Crown Prince of England!"

"Yeah. Almost. He 'died', remember?"

She gave him an exasperated look. "Why don't you work on your book or something? Don't you have a deadline to meet?"

"Actually," he squirmed nervously in his seat. "Actually, there was something I wanted to ask you," he said quickly, as if he was afraid that if he didn't say it now, he might chicken out and never broach whatever subject he wanted to broach with her.

Abby's eyes narrowed at him again. "What?" she wanted to know.

"It's just… I was wondering… I mean… I just… I'm not saying…that is, I just wondered… I just thought we should talk about…"

"Timothy!"

He took a deep breath and let it out. He hadn't been this nervous when he'd asked her to marry him. "How do you feel about children?"

She gave over a quizzical look. "I love kids! You know that! I _love_ sitting for RJ," she reminded him. RJ was Gwen and Rhys's eleven month old. Usually one of the grandparents was available, but every once in a while it was Auntie Abby to the rescue. The last time she'd had RJ, they spent the entire afternoon finger painting…so what if some of it was directly onto the walls? It was art. "And you know I adore both Jason and Seren," she added. She'd never babysat for either, Sara lived closer, but she liked Jack's son and who wouldn't love Jack and Ianto's four month old? _But boy is she going to be a handful when she gets older…_ Earth of the twenty first century really wasn't equipped for children fathered by a man from the fifty first century…

"No," Timmy was saying, looking as confused as she felt by the whole conversation. "What I meant was, how do you feel about your children?"

"I don't—oh." Abby turned away from him for a moment, chewing on her lower lip.

Tim swallowed. "I just… I was wondering… I mean… I'm not saying I want—"

"You would make a fantastic father, Timothy," she told him in a tone too forceful to be ignored. "And I want kids, I really do—I _always_ have. It's just…this job, you know?" she turned to face him again, green eyes wide. "The chances of even one of us living long enough to see our own children graduate from high school…" she shook her head. They both knew the odds. Tim had read the old files in the archives, she'd seen the database. The average Torchwood field operative lived five, maybe six years on the job. Granted, Jack was doing everything he could to improve those statistics, but… "Gwen has Rhys," Abby told him. "Her children will have their father, even if—when—something happens to her. Ianto has Jack. No matter what, Seren will _always _have her papa. The only way… there is no way I'm quitting my job, Timothy McGee. There's no way you're quitting either. If Jack has to recon you, I might have to kill him. Twice."

"Jack wouldn't have to—!"

"Yes he would. It would be the only way to get you to quit for real and you know it."

He nodded. She was right. He would never reveal Torchwood's existence, its secrets, but he could never walk away from his job, either. He couldn't watch her go to work every day while he sat home and played Mr Mom any more than Ianto could quit, even though they all knew how much Jack wanted him to.

"Abbs, I'm sorry. I—" he hadn't realized she'd already thought about all of it already. Him. Her. Them. Kids. She had already considered what it would mean to bring a child into their lives and she'd made the logical choice.

She waved aside his apology. "I'm happy being 'Auntie Abby'," she told him in a tone he recognized as forced. She wasn't happy, but she was willing to accept her own decision.

Tim reached over and took her hand into his. "I love you."

She grinned. It wasn't forced. "I love you too. Now go work on your book or something and let me read."

He leant over and feathered a soft kiss onto her cheek before digging his notebook out from his carryon bag. Across from them, a little girl looked up and smiled. Tim smiled back. He supposed Abby was right. Neither of them would realistically live long enough to see a child of theirs grow up...

* * *

**A/N:**

_**There really is an NCIS episode where Abby says she wants children. **_


	7. Chapter 7

**Thank you again for the wonderful reviews and all the fantastic non-spoiler insights! **

* * *

**Chapter Seven**

"Few are those who see with their own eyes and feel with their own hearts."

_Albert Einstein_

* * *

Leroy Jethro Gibbs was generally a difficult man to surprise. Just the same, finding former colleagues Abby Scuito and Timothy McGee standing on his front porch at nine o'clock at night wasn't something he would have expected. If he had, he might have put on a clean shirt. Or at least a pot of coffee.

"Let me guess, you were in the neighbourhood and thought you'd drop in?" he said by way of hello, his voice rife with familiar snark. Anyone who knew him simply accepted it as a part of what made Gibbs, Gibbs. A stranger, or someone he didn't like, would have been greeted with cold indifference.

Tim looked as if he was going to try answering the question, but Abby beat him to the punch, flinging her arms around their retired boss's neck and planting a huge kiss on his cheek. She'd barrelled into him with enough force to push him two steps back into his own living room. He chuckled and wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her in close for a longer moment than he'd intended, eyes closed, enjoying the familiar scent (Abby had once told him it was something called frangipani whatever that was).

Gibbs had barely spoken to the former NCIS forensic technician in the past year, save for the occasional email or a brief phone call. Work, it seemed, Torchwood, kept her busy, although she very carefully never discussed her job with him when she called. That was the least of his bones of contention with Ducky, a man who had been one of Gibbs' dearest, most trusted friends for almost as long as he could remember. He was still dear, still trusted, but the last year had seen another strain on their friendship—only this time it was on Gibbs' end, not the good doctor's. Gibbs didn't like it that Ducky had put Abby in a place where she could get seriously hurt, somewhere where she was going out into the field on a regular basis, carrying a gun, doing the sorts of things she'd never been trained for.

Despite his intention to call Ducky Mallard immediately after Abby had called him to announce that she was a "probie" with Torchwood, Gibbs phoned Tobias Fornell, his third wife's second ex husband, instead. Fornell, aside from making the same mistake he had where Diane was concerned (Gibbs _had _warned him about her), was a well connected, high ranking FBI Special Agent. Through him, Gibbs was able to glean more information about Abby's new job, her new boss. What he learned made him like the situation even less.

Torchwood was somehow involved in the appearance of the "ghosts" from a few years back and the "incident" at Canary Wharf in London that followed shortly after. Not that anyone knew exactly what the "incident" had been, the British Government was keeping a tight lid on it, but Torchwood had been there, been involved.

There were unsubstantiated rumours that they'd been called in when the River Thames mysteriously drained a few years back—Tobias was inclined to believe the rumour, said he had a friend in UNIT who was there and saw Harkness on the scene, walking around like he owned the place. Tobias was also inclined to believe that Torcwhood operated outside the government, running roughshod over local authorities and even the military. Not that Gibbs wasn't known to colour outside the lines himself once in awhile, but what kind of man would put Abby in the field?

His concerns were eased only marginally when he heard that McGee had been recruited by this Captain Jack Harkness as well. At the very least, McGee wouldn't ever let anything happen to Abby.

"Well come on in," he said when Tim hesitated on the other side of his threshold.

"Thanks Boss—erm—Gibbs. Sorry," he corrected himself, apologizing, doing his best to ignore the rush of warmth that overtook his cheeks.

The older man just smiled; old habits died hard. He would have been a liar if he'd said he wasn't flattered—he just wouldn't say it out loud. "So. What brings you two to D.C.?" he said instead.

Abby answered with a grin: "We have an announcement!" she told him, her eyes flashing wide.

He gave her a speculative look; he glanced at McGee. The younger man looked suddenly sheepish, like he had the first day they met. Abby, naturally, was still talking:

"Maybe you'd better sit down," she advised her former boss sagely.

"All right," he agreed, his trepidation audible as he took a seat on the sofa. She sat down next to him, perching on the edge of the cushion; Tim remained standing, looking nervous, hovering. "I hope you're not waiting for an engraved invitation, McGee," he told him, nodding at the seats still available in the cosy, decidedly bachelor-décor room.

Tim blushed again. "No. No I just… that is…" he cleared his throat. "Abbs?" he prompted her to continue.

"Timmy asked me to marry him!" she proclaimed. "It was so romantic, Gibbs! You should have seen him, getting down on one knee and everything! Oh, and of course I said yes," she added quickly, thrusting out her left hand to show off her ring. It was a large dark red ruby solitaire set in platinum. "Way cooler than a diamond," she intoned with a look of absolute fondness up at the man who had given it to her. "Timothy has very good taste."

"Of course he does," Gibbs said without missing a beat. "He chose you, didn't he?"

She beamed with pleasure at the compliment. Then her expression clouded over… "But… see… Gibbs, the thing is, I asked Ducky to walking me up the aisle. Please don't be mad at me for not asking you, but I couldn't decide between you and Jack and I because I love you both so much, but couldn't have you both so I asked Ducky and he said yes—" her words were tumbling out in a rush picking up speed as she talked.

"Breathe, Abbs," the older man instructed.

"Right." She took a deep breath and let it out. "Where was I?"

"I think you lost me _before _you showed me the ring," he told her honestly, shooting the younger man a look calculated to make him squirm. It worked. It always worked. But to Tim's credit, he didn't back down, he just laid a hand on Abby's shoulder, giving over a look that indicated he understood Gibbs' ire. The other hadn't head from either of them that they were an item again, he'd had to hear it from Tony DiNozzo that he and Abby were living together—in a one bedroom apartment.

"We started dating again…but I guess that's pretty obvious, huh?" said Abby.

"Gee, ya think?" was all Gibbs said in response.

She ducked her head.

"Well…?" the retired Marine prompted impatiently.

"I guess… after I moved to Cardiff, I didn't really have a place to stay, so Abby let me crash on her sofa for a while," Tim told him, hedging around the entire incident with the alien angel dust, which was the real reason he'd been staying at her apartment. Gibbs didn't need to know about that. "But…I guess… we didn't…that is…like she said, we started dating again," he shrugged helplessly. There wasn't much else he could say. Somehow, none of the few occasions he'd spoken to Gibbs over the last year had seemed the right time to mention that he and Abby were seeing each other.

She nodded, taking the story back over. "Then last week he asked me marry him. We were in Llandudno—that's in northern Wales," she explained in a patient tone, correctly guessing that Gibbs had never heard of the place. "We only had a couple of days off, but it was _so_ beautiful, Gibbs—"

"Wait. You took a vacation?" he asked, looking from one to the other and back again. He couldn't remember Abby _ever_ taking a vacation when she'd worked for him. She never even called in sick. She worked six, sometimes seven days a week doing the work of three lab techs, but the only person she'd ever let anywhere near her lab was McGee and even that had taken time. To call Abby territorial was something of an understatement.

"It was just for a couple of days and we weren't that far away—Wales is pretty small," she said. "If Jack needed us, he'd call. And it wasn't like Bobby couldn't run his _own_ labs for a change—he's the medic on staff," she told him. "He was getting way too spoiled having me around all the time," she said in a smug little tone that suggested the idea of their medic doing his own lab work left her feeling immensely satisfied.

Gibbs blinked. Vacation? Someone else working in her lab and her not blowing up at somebody over it? Seeming pleased about it, even?

"We're getting married in Llandudno, right on the spot where he proposed," Abby went on, seeming not to notice his confusion. "You will come, won't you? Please say yes, Gibbs. It won't be the same without you, I know I asked somebody else to walk me up the aisle, but I need you to be there—"

"I'll be there," he promised quickly, before she could get herself worked up again. Besides, it would mean he'd finally get to meet this Jack Harkness, a man who apparently inspired vacations and shared lab facilities, a man who Ducky spoke of with admiration and affection but DiNozzo described as 'freaky.'

"It's going to be so beautiful," Abby was off again. "The cemetery there—"

"Cemetery?" he queried, looking back up at McGee. "You asked her to marry you in a _cemetery_?"

Abby answered: "It overlooks the bay and the sun was setting and it was so perfect, Gibbs! We were out on a long walk after dinner our first night there. I didn't know where we were going or what he had planned, I just knew he'd been awful jumpy during dinner," she gave Tim a sly little look. "I was looking at the headstones—then Timmy took me by the hand and got down on one knee and asked me to marry him!"

"You asked her to marry you in a **_cemetery_**?" Gibbs repeated the question.

"Saint Tudno's church is over seven hundred years old," Abby told him, as if that somehow explained everything. "People still go to mass there—I really hope the Sisters can make it," she added in a wistful tone.

She was referring of course to the nuns with whom she used to bowl, back when she lived in D.C. She missed them so much…she hoped they'd be able get to Cardiff and stay for a few days at least, and that nothing hinky happened while they were visiting. Slipping an amnesia pill into Tony's hot cocoa was one thing, but she was sure that it had to be a sin to retcon a nun. Not that she was exactly Catholic herself or even particularly religious in the same sort way that most people were, but still, it was the thought that counted.

For his part, Tim held his shudder in check as he imagined what the Sisters would make of Jack. Again. Abby had already decided that they had to all go bowling…

"We have pictures from the trip," she was saying, "if you want to see." She glanced around the room looking a little uncertain. "Except…they're all on a flash drive…"

"Computer's in the other room," said Gibbs, nodding in the right direction. "Help yourself. We'll be right in," he added as he got to his feet. With a look, he had stilled McGee where he stood. "Congratulations," he said, once Abby was well out of ear shot. He held out his hand and waited until the younger man had accepted his handshake before continuing: "And just so you know, if you hurt her, I will break your fingers, McGee," his tone was calm. Sincere. Maybe even a little bit warm, in an odd Gibbs sort of way. It was, in short, exactly what Tim had expected.

"Duly noted, Sir," he assured him, just as sincerely. It was only a marginally less frightening a threat than the one Jack had made and that was _only_ because Gibbs didn't know what a Weevil was.

…………………………………………………………………

The house was quiet when Jack and Jason slipped in the front door. The Captain pressed his finger to his lips, indicating to his son that they should keep it that way. Ianto was probably asleep upstairs. He wished he was home for the night—he was due back at the Hub later, but, barring alien invasion, he could slip out and let Mickey and Sara handle things while he picked his son up from school and stole a few minutes with his husband at home. He got so little time with his family as it was, it was nice to spend a couple of hours together with Jason, even if all they did was sneak in an ice cream cone on the way home from school (_before_ dinner, Ianto would have a fit if he found out).

The boy nodded to the request for silence and set his backpack down before toeing off his shoes and then setting them carefully on the mat next to the door. Ianto could be a real stickler about things putting one's shoes by the door where they belonged. He supposed it wasn't the worst thing his Tad could ask him to do.

"Why don't you go ahead and start in on your homework," Jack said in a hushed tone. "I'll be back down in a few minutes to give you a hand."

"Ok," he agreed, grabbing his backpack in one hand and heading off into the kitchen. He still hated homework but he loved spending time with his Papa, so he was willing to oblige the request. He'd even been a little bit happy not to see Grandma's car in the drive; he loved her, of course, but she had a way of taking over the whole house when she was around. It wasn't her fault, it was just the way she was. But it was nice when it was just him and Papa and Tad and even Seren, even though he would have preferred a little brother to play with. For a little sister Seren was ok, he reckoned.

Jack moved quietly up the stairs and down the hall towards the bedroom. Seren had been up all night fussing…teething. She'd kept the whole house awake. For him, it wasn't so bad, he could get by on a few hours' sleep, but when he'd left this morning, Ianto had looked like death warmed over. If he was asleep, the last thing Jack wanted to do was wake him up.

He stopped bedroom doorway and smiled at the sight before him. There was his Welshman, as expected, passed out in bed—he was propped up against the headboard with Seren in his arms, a discarded bottle lying next to him. Jack watched them silently for a long moment, enjoying the feeling of warmth spread through him… He was just starting to turn and leave them to their nap when the soft sound of a baby fussing stopped him.

He tip-toed over to the bed; she was awake all right. She didn't seem fussy, she just waned his attention.

"How about not waking your Tad up," he said softly, lifting the small child gently from the younger man's arms. He held her a moment, marvelling at the sight. It was hard to believe she'd really come from him… them. He thought about Jason downstairs, all the things he'd missed out on with him, with his first two daughters, Laura's girls. He thought about all the things he'd had…lost… the things he'd thought he never wanted again because it hurt too much… Jack pressed a soft kiss to his daughter's forehead. "I love you so much," he told her quietly, fiercely. Some things were worth the risk of getting hurt over. He glanced down at Ianto again.

He had been so afraid to have another child, afraid of what it would do to their already overcomplicated lives, but he had wanted so badly to give the man he loved just one small slice of 'normal'—wanted selfishly to have a whole year together without having to worry about the Rift. Aliens. He would be the first person to admit that his motives had been less than pure. He suspected Ianto was well aware of that, too; nobody knew him better than his Welshman did.

"Only now I can't imagine my life without you," he said to the little girl in his arms. "Funny how that works, huh? One minute you're cruising along life, thinking you know everything and then suddenly… suddenly everything changes," he told her in quiet tone. "Before I met your Tad I wouldn't ever have expected..." he never would have expected his life to look anything like _this,_ not again. Not ever again. "I guess that makes you one more reason I'm so glad I have him," he told Seren, because he believed, he had to believe, that this time was different. This time he was with someone who really always love him.

He shifted their daughter in his arms so he could pick up the discarded bottle and take it downstairs after he'd settled her back into her crib.

"Cariad…?" came a sleepy inquiry in his ear as he leaned over to get the bottle.

Jack chuckled. "Hey," he said by way of greeting.

"Seren…"

"I've got her. Go back to sleep."

The younger man mumbled something incomprehensible and shifted himself into a more comfortable position on the bed. The only thing Jack could make out was clearly a soft "love you," as he was closing his eyes again.

"I love you too, Sweetheart," he answered, pressing a kiss to the sleeping man's temple. He doubted Ianto would even remember him coming in, but that didn't matter_._ He cradled their daughter in his arms and took her back to her room. He changed her diaper and tucked her into her crib, wondering if he'd ever been quite as happy with his life as he was in that very moment… knowing he had, but not wanting to remember it because… _because this time it'll be different,_ he told himself.

………………………………………………………

Bobby took his girlfriend's hand as they walked towards the restaurant where they were supposed to meet the others for dinner and drinks. He was feeling drained after the funeral. He'd barely known Kutner, but there had been so many people there, so many people who loved him, cared about him. Only he never saw it. Never realized. Never even thought to reach out and ask for help. House and Amber were right, that made him a selfish bastard and suddenly Bobby was very, very angry at a man he'd barely known…

"You ok?" Wendy asked him quietly.

He opened the door, held it for her. "I will be. Thanks," he leant over and pressed a soft kiss to her cheek. "Are you sure you're up to this?"

Across the crowded room, Wilson got to his feet, so they could see him, make their way over—as if Bobby could miss House in a crowd. He wasn't surprised to see him. He glanced back to the woman next to him, the woman who shared his bed, his life, in a way that no one else ever had.

"I think I can handle drinks, Bobby. I'll be fine," she promised. "They're your friends—"

He shook his head. It wasn't that they weren't his friends, it was just that this wasn't his life any more. He gave her hand a squeeze as they made their way through the crowd towards the corner table where his former colleagues were gathered. Foreman and Thirteen…Lisa Cuddy… House… Taub… James and Amber Wilson… Alison. She was giving him a tight lipped smile; he returned it.

"No wonder you stayed in Cardiff," House said by way of hello, his brows raised in a lascivious expression that didn't faze Wendy in the least. Although House had met her via web cam, they had yet to meet in person. He remarked how much prettier she was face to face.

Bobby rolled his eyes. _Just a couple of drinks,_ he told himself. They'd have a couple of drinks, get something to eat and in less than twelve hours, they'd be on a plane headed back home.


	8. Ch 8 CoE Day One, Part One

**First: **Thank you all for the fantastic reviews, non-spoiler insights and inspiration to go on with this as planned. You guys have really helped the Muses do their work the past week or so on this one.

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**IMPORTANT NOTE:**

**SPOILERS FOR **_**Children of Earth**_** FROM HERE ON OUT  
**I won't be jumping any further ahead than it airs here in the States…….

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Ok, first impressions of CoE are that it's very X-Files-ish. So far, however, I am not feeling disappointed in CoE or RTD, although I can see where it's likely to get even more tense as we go and it may not have a happy fluffy ending. Sometimes drama isn't about happy fluffy endings. All I can predict about my own ending, is that if you've been reading my work, you know that Jack and Ianto have 14 years together and that Bobby survives for 6 as team medic.

Secondly, I'm *not*going to rewrite each episode play by play, it isn't necessary, especially with the stuff going on behind Tochwood's collective backsides. I'm going to handle it like I did Journey's End, it's just there's more to tackle.

The only other **Big Thing** I'd like to make a special note of going in is that I've gathered the impression that (in cannon) CoE picks up with the Torchwood team shortly after the events of Journey's End, which seems to come on the heels of Exit Wounds. Obviously my timeline runs very differently. The team have had close to a year and a half since they lost Tosh and Owen and have filled out their ranks rather nicely.

For Jack and Ianto it's been two and a half years since the events of Exit Wounds, because of the year they spent in the future having Seren. And obviously, they've got a pretty established relationship already… although it was delightful watching Ianto bumbling through it in the official cannon version of it, especially trying to explain it to that sister of his… no wonder he doesn't visit often!

Ok, deep breath… here goes:

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**Chapter Eight:  
Day One, Part One**

_"Evil is done without effort, naturally, it is the working of fate; good is always the product of an art."_

Charles Baudelaire

* * *

Jack laid his hand across his son's forehead, acutely aware of both his mother's and his partner's presence. They were hovering in the doorway of Jason's room, glaring at him. Well, maybe Ianto was the only one glaring. Ella was more… no, he realized as he glanced over his shoulder, his mother was glaring too. Terrific. He would have a better chance taking on a pack of angry Weevils singlehandedly than he had of retaining any semblance of domestic tranquillity this morning. That left only one tactic left that he could see.

He eyed his son thoughtfully… pleadingly. "You don't seem to have a fever, buddy," he said in a soft tone. "Are you _sure _you're really sick today?"

"Tummy hurts," he moaned pitifully. _Too _pitifully.

Jack sighed. He was doomed. Either his mother or his partner was going to end up angry with him. Maybe he'd head into the Hub early… _great, now I'm turning into a coward, and over what? _he wondered silently.

Jason had feigned illness at least twice a week during his first few months of school in Cardiff, much to Ianto's ire. Ella encouraged her grandson to stay home anytime he wanted to, saying openly that schools in this century were rubbish. The Captain couldn't argue the fact that compared to their home century, the education system was lacking, but this was where they lived, _when_ they lived. His mother had been the one to bring Jason to this century, she'd known it would be a one way trip. She should have thought things through… yet he was infinitely glad that she hadn't, glad he had her, his son. Even if at the moment he felt doomed to angering either her or his partner—he wasn't even sure which was the lesser of two evils.

So far this year Jason hadn't missed a day of school. Granted the year was only just starting, but even towards the end of last year, when he finally started making friends, feeling as if he belonged, fitting in despite having one of the more unusual households in the neighbourhood, things had turned around. His grades improved, calls from the headmaster's office came with less and less frequency. Ianto had even discovered that there were two other families in Jason's school with same-gender parents. Most of the more conventional families were all right with them, too, it seemed, though Jack knew his son was still well aware of what homophobia was—he didn't have to look any further than Ianto's brother Cade to see that. He also knew it hurt his son to have to pretend that his other father wasn't his real, biological father because two men couldn't have a child together in this century.

Ianto crossed the distance between them and laid his palm gently over Jason's forehead, felt his cheeks with the back of his hand. He gave over a thoughtful look. "He feels a little warm to me, Cariad," he surprised his partner by saying (shocked him, was more like it).

Jack eyed him wearily. Jason _wasn't _running a fever.

"Why don't we keep him home today?" the younger man suggested. There was nothing in his tone to suggest he'd suddenly gone daft.

"Are you sure?" the Captain asked anyway, wondering what was with the sudden change of attitude, especially now with Seren in their lives. Their five month old daughter had kept the entire house up again last night, but with four of the team on leave, he had to be in to work today, he couldn't stay home to help.

"We'll be fine, Jack. Honestly." His Welshman gave him a look that begged the question: _'do you **really** think I can't handle one sick child and a baby?'_

He gave in. Of course Ianto could handle it. He could handle Weevils, Daleks... _me,_ Jack thought a little ruefully as his gaze took in the younger man. A familiar warmth swept through him. His husband retuned the look, smiled that smile of his, the one that told him that no matter how rough things got, they would always be all right.

Besides, if he really needed help, Ella would be around. She and Ianto seemed to have come to some sort of truce the last year. Jack didn't know when it had happened or how, but it had and he was grateful.

"I'll phone the school and let them know Jason won't be in," he offered at last, giving his son's hair a light tussle before straightening up; Jason smiled at him. He was sure he wasn't sick...however… He turned to his partner. "And I can go in late today," he told him. The least he could do was get his off to a good start. Mickey and Sara could handle anything that came through the Rift and Gwen was there to man the Hub.

Ianto didn't argue. "All right. But you get breakfast while I call the school," he told him. If Jack was going to stay home an extra couple of hours, he was going to take full advantage of it. "_After_ I've put on another pot of coffee," he added to the pleading look in his Captain's blue eyes. He leant in and pressed his lips gently to the older man's mouth, savouring the sweetness, the softness of his kiss… and right on cue, Seren started wailing the next room. "No rest for the wicked," he grinned into a second soft kiss before attending to the needs of their daughter.

Ella stopped him. "I'll get her," she said, "you get the coffee." It had been decided early on that she was not to go near the coffee pot except in cases of dire emergency. Apparently hers was worse than Jack's…

* * *

The shrill bleeping of a monitor roused Mickey Smith from what had been fitful slumber on the sofa behind his station. He rubbed a hand over his face and glugged down the dregs of the cold coffee from his mug, trying to dispel the last of sleep. According to his watch, it was 7:34 am. He'd barely gotten in two hours… thank God, Captain Cheesecake was due in any minute. He needed to go home and get some real sleep.

Groggily he hauled himself up to see what was setting off the alarm…

"Shite," he cursed when he saw the readout. Abby's new program had just picked up alien life signs near by. He rang Sara's mobile as he tapped at the keyboard to get a fix on the alien and some idea of what it might be. The last thing he wanted to deal with first thing in the morning was a surprise…now, if Sara would just answer her phone…

"Hello?" she finally picked up.

"Took you long enough," he said by way of greeting, rolling his chair from one computer monitor to another, to bring up the CCTV cameras in the area around the 'disturbance'—although really it wasn't much of a disturbance at all, just some old guy talking to himself in his front garden.

"I was in the shower," the American informed him.

"Still wrapped in a towel, then?" he asked, his cheeky grin audible even over the phone.

She ignored the question. "What's going on?" she wanted to know.

"Alien life form… hang on..." he rolled the chair back at the first computer and checked the read out again. "Looks like a parasite—basic hitchhiker. I'm sending you the GPS coordinates. See you there in ten." He didn't wait for her answer before hanging up. With any luck they'd have the alien bagged and tagged before their Fearless Leader even came strolling in to work.

_Heh, and he thinks we can't handle it without him,_ Mickey grinned as he grabbed up his gear and headed out the rolling cog door, just as Myfanwy was gliding in from her nightly roaming. One of these days somebody was going to notice… _either that or they already have and just chose to ignore what they don't want to acknowledge,_ he smirked.

Ten minutes later he arrived on the scene, just as a couple of paramedics were loading the old guy onto a stretcher. He sidled up to his American co-worker. "What gives?" he asked her.

"Dunno. Looks like our vic is on his way to St Helen's."

"Guess we'd better follow."

She nodded. "But do you think you could try _not_ causing a panic this time?" she asked. Yelling 'Torchwood' in a crowded room was just as bad (if not worse) than yelling 'fire.'

He gave her a look. "Fine then, we can say we're his neighbours or something. Come on, I'll drive."

* * *

Wendy woke with a start, her heart pounding in her ears… strange smells… strange sounds… inky shadows, shades of grey and black… her eyes adjusted quickly to the darkened room... a familiar scent. A familiar sound. Familiar warmth next to her.

Bobby.

He was there, sleeping soundly. Peacefully.

She curled herself around him and closed her eyes again, willing her breathing to slow to normal, willing herself to relax enough to collect her scattered wits. Amber and James Wilson… their house… New Jersey… that explained the strange smells, the strange sounds, the sensation of waking up in a strange bed.

It didn't explain her heart pounding in her ears or the feeling of panic that she couldn't shake, even after she realized where she was, why she was there.

The clock on the nightstand read 3:03, am.

She slipped out of the bed and wrapped her shawl around her bare shoulders… she crept quietly down the hall…down the steps. Nothing seemed amiss. The house was quiet. Dark. It should be peaceful. But something was wrong. She checked every room looking for the something… looking for _anything_ to explain the feeling of disquiet. Nothing seemed of place in the house.

The clock in the kitchen read 3:24.

Her heart beat faster, her breath quickened… fight or flight… but there was nothing to fight, nothing from which to flee. It didn't make any sense! The walls were closing in on her…outside… she needed to be outside.

Silently she stole out into the night, leaving the front door just slightly ajar behind her, a safe place she could retreat to if necessary.

_No place will be safe_, said the tiny voice in the back of her mind, the voice of her instinct, her fear.

Country air filled her nostrils… the darkness was still. Something churned underneath the stillness… the calm was a façade… something was coming… something awful.

* * *

Ianto was putting the last of the breakfast dishes into the dishwasher—Jack had gone upstairs to check on Jason on more time before heading into the Hub—when the phone rang.

"I've got it," the young Welshman said to his mother in law; she was starting in on the crossword puzzle in the morning paper. _Absurdly normal, _he thought about his life. In that very moment the whole of it was absolutely, absurdly normal. He picked up the receiver from the phone hanging on the kitchen wall. "Hello?"

"Yan—"

"Nerys?" He only barely recognized his sister's voice on the other end of the line. "What is it, what's the matter, JP—" if her ex husband…

"It's not JP, Yan, it's Remy. Something…something happened to her. She's…she's not…she just… she's gone catatonic!" she sobbed.

"Nerys, calm down. What happened?"

Ella looked questioningly up at him, but all he could do was shrug.

"I can't calm down! My daughter's—she's just frozen!" Nerys told him, her voice cracking, more tears coming.

Jack came into the room and gave him the same questioning look Ella just had, but he still didn't have any answers, any information that bore repeating. Nerys wasn't making any sense.

"Ner, what happened, what do you mean 'frozen'?"

"I mean bloody catatonic, Ianto!" she howled. "She's not moving, she won't speak, she's not reacting to anything! It's like… like somebody just flipped a switch and turned her off! But her eyes are still open and…and she's still breathing, she's just sitting there, like she's frozen in time!"

Jack took the phone from his partner's hand, having heard bits and pieces of the other side of the conversation. "Nerys, what's going on?" he asked, using his Captain's voice, the one that usually got people to snap out of whatever it was they were in and pay attention. Nerys however, wasn't snapping out of anything.

"**_I don't know!" _ **she cried.

"Ok. Just stay calm. I'm on my way over."

"Jack—" Ianto began.

Right. _They_ were on their way over.

* * *

Gwen's attention was drawn from her transaction at the ATM by the sound of a woman arguing with her child. The boy seemed to have just… stopped. She shook her head; he was probably just acting out. Kids did that… _gawd, is what I've got to look forward to in ten years? _she wondered. RJ was already a handful and a half… Almost involuntarily her hand went to her mid-section. She smiled.

A little girl. According to Bobby's scan, they were going to have a little girl. Her smile warmed, broadening further at the thought of having a daughter. Not that she didn't adore her son to bits, but she was already seeing so much of his father in him. A daughter would be somebody she could have girls' days out with someday… somebody who would cry on her shoulder… she had visions of teenaged dances, going off to university… a wedding dress… _just as long as there aren't any uninvited aliens at your wedding, Sweetheart,_ she thought in her daughter's direction.

It was little wonder Rhys thought they needed a bigger place… a proper house. Even if they stopped after two children, they needed more than the two-bedroom flat they'd moved into last year. It was just the prospect of moving again that made her groan. They still had boxes they hadn't unpacked from the _first_ move…

Across the street, another parent was having an argument with another child. That child wasn't moving, either, wasn't even seeming to see or hear her mother, her face, her expression, was completely blank... Gwen frowned. It had to be more than just a coincidence.


	9. Ch 9 CoE Day One, Part Two

**A/N:**

**Thank you so much for the reviews this has recieved, especially as we move off into CoE territory... it looks like it's going to get written and posted a wee bit slower than planned. Everybody decided that it was "drop in on Helen" day today, so I wasn't able to get any furhter than this.**

* * *

**Chapter Nine:**

**Day One, Part Two**

_"Children are one-third of our population and all of our future"_

Author unknown

* * *

The Hub was dark when Gwen walked through the rolling cog door. "Hello!" she hollered anyway. "Anybody in? Mickey?" He was supposed to be pulling an overnighter. "Oi! Mickey!" She called louder; that man could sleep through World War Three.

But still no one answered, not even Myfanwy.

With a sigh, Gwen made her way to her station and activated the main lights from her computer console. That was when she noticed the post-it note near her monitor, next to the worn picture of Tosh and Owen. She smiled at the pair of them… no matter what, they would always be a part of Torchwood, a part of her heart. She plucked the note off the Plexiglas and did her best to decipher Mickey's horrible scrawl.

_Gwen –_

_The new program found an alien life form. Me and Sara are on it so you can tell Captain Poncy Pants not to get his knickers in a bunch._

_Mickey_

_PS—he just called in to say he'd be late. Something to do with Ianto's fam. _

Discarding the note, Gwen set down the cup of tea she'd picked up on her way in and settled into her desk. She logged into the server. "Right then… _c-h-i-l-d-r-e-n…_" she typed…

* * *

Jack's mobile rang just as he was sliding in behind the wheel of the SUV. "Yeah—?"

"Jack," it was Nerys.

"We're just getting in the car," he told her. Ianto flashed over a concerned look.

"You don't have to come out, everything's all right now," she said. She sounded shaken…relieved.

"What do you mean, 'everything's all right now'?" he wanted to know. Nothing was making sense this morning. A few minutes ago, she'd been in hysterics.

In the passenger seat, his husband frowned; all he could do was shrug. He had no idea what was going on.

"Remy's fine," said Nerys. "She just…she started moving again, she got up from the table, she's fine, Jack. Everything's going to be all right."

Ok, so maybe she still sounded a little hysterical. "We're coming out anyway," he decided.

"You don't need to bother, really—"

"We'll be there in twenty minutes."

"But she has school—"

"Twenty minutes," he repeated then hung up before she could argue further. Apparently stubbornness ran in the family.

* * *

Gwen grimaced when Mickey, looking entirely too pleased with himself, showed her the alien 'hitchhiker' he and Sara had pulled out of some poor old codger at St Helen's. It wasn't so much that it looked vile (although it did), it was that it _reeked_, smelling of rotten eggs and sour milk. The man it was using as a host had died of what appeared to be completely natural causes. When he died, so did the parasite—or at least that was the most logical conclusion, seeing as it was already dead when Sara removed it from the man's abdomen with a laser scalpel.

Mickey spent the next few minutes filling Gwen in on the details, particularly how him and Sara had played the concerned neighbours for the hospital staff to get in to see the body for 'one last good-bye' rather than causing a raucous. He sniffled and blinked away non-existent tears while Sara, perched on the edge of Gwen's desk, rolled her eyes and drank her peppermint tea. Gwen was very clearly trying not to laugh at Mickey's encore performance.

"I'll just put this bad boy into cold storage for Bobby, then," the Londoner finished his story with a Cheshire grin.

"You do that," Sara retorted; she was just as happy as the other woman to have the alien out of her sight and locked away where she couldn't smell it any more, either. She turned to her female colleague, "What are you working on?" Gwen had been in the middle of a telephone conversation with some police Sergeant when they came in. All she'd been able to glean from Gwen's side was that the Welshwoman wasn't pleased with whatever the Sergeant had to say.

Gwen drained the last of the tea from her takeaway cup. "Dunno for sure," she said. "Something odd happened this morning. I was on my way in and it was like all the children just…stopped."

"Stopped?" Sara queried.

"Yeah, and it wasn't just here. I've been doing some checking," she pulled the news reports up on her monitor. "Same thing happened in France, Spain… all over the Europe. Then they started up again a minute later, like nothing had happened. It was really weird. What about you two? Did you see anything while you were out? Well, you know, apart from…" she nodded in the direction of the autopsy bay, Mickey and the deceased alien.

Sara shook her head. "But we were pretty focused on that thing." She folded her arms across her chest and peered over the other's shoulder. "That and some doctor at St Helens who was going on about missing bodies. Asian, African, Middle Eastern, all males, all minorities, at least according to his 'observations'." She sounded dubious. "He asked us if we were with Torchwood."

"What did you say?" Gwen wondered.

Sara grinned. "I let Mickey do the talking."

The other smirked, she couldn't help it. Mickey, for all his genuine brilliance, had a real knack for coming off as an idiot when he wanted to—sometimes even when he didn't want to. "How'd that go?" she asked.

"I'm pretty sure he lost interest in us. I'm still going to check on the missing bodies though, just in case there's something to it," she said, even though she was clearly doubtful of the validity of the doctor's story.

"No harm in checking it out, I suppose," Gwen agreed. "I'll keep working on this, then."

Mickey rejoined them just as Sara was settling in at her station, getting ready to start searching death records from St Helen's Hospital. He'd heard about half of their conversation on his way from the medical by to the kitchenette. "Hang on," he said through a mouthful of cold pizza from last night's supper; he stuffed more of it into his mouth and started typing something in on his computer. "What?" He asked in an indignant tone to the askance looks being shot his way. "I haven't eaten yet, I'm starving—woke to an alien alert, remember?" He turned to Gwen. "What time did you say?" he asked her. "About the kids?"

"Between eight forty and eight forty one. _Exactly _one minute_._ There were a series of traffic accidents all at the same time all over Europe. Everybody's saying the same thing, that the children just stopped, right in the middle of the road. Even Rhys saw it," she added, "Called to ask me about it."

Mickey tapped at his keyboard, chewing and swallowing his breakfast without tasting the day old pizza as he waited impatiently for the server to spit forth the requested information. "Here we go… bloody Hell. Gwen, it wasn't just Europe. Egypt, Bosnia, Norway, Sweden… India… China… the United States… most kids in the Western Hemisphere were still asleep, but…Jesus, there are reports from all over the world of children just… just _stopping,"_ he turned to stare at her over his shoulder. What was going on out there…?

"All at the same time?" asked Sara, even as both she and Gwen were pulling the same information up at their terminals. Suddenly reports of missing bodies didn't seem half so important.

The two women stared at one another over the tops of their desks, gobsmacked. All around the world, the reports were the same, children stopping in their tracks, catatonic. "We'd better call Jack—" Gwen began.

"Oi!" Mickey called out suddenly, cutting her off. "I knew it—Sara! Look! He followed us home!"

"What?" said Gwen. "_Who_ followed you?" she moved over to Mickey's station, Sara on her heels. The image on one of his secondary monitors was of the CCTV feed from the Plass. There was a man was wandering around aimlessly, seeming as if he was lost—or looking for something, but not knowing where he should look to find it. "Who is that?" she wanted to know.

"Dr Rupesh Patanjali," Mickey told her in a glib tone.

"The missing bodies guy," Sara clarified. "He saw the hitchhiker."

"He _what?" _

"He didn't freak out," said Mickey, shoving the last of the cold pizza into his mouth. "Well, you know, not much, anyway," he shrugged. "Who wouldn't be a little bit freaked out by that thing?"

Gwen rolled her eyes. She watched Dr Patanjali for several more moments as he ambled haplessly around the Plass. "Reminds me and of how I stumbled onto this place," she muttered… she turned her attention back to her teammates. "How the Hell did he find us?"

"He _didn't_ follow us," the other woman insisted. "I would have noticed—"

Mickey cut her off. "If you ask around about Torchwood long enough, somebody's bound point towards the bay."

The brunette stifled a groan; he had a point. For a 'super secret' organization, they weren't terribly secretive. As a rookie copper she'd managed to track down Torchwood simply by asking at the local take aways. She had the sudden image in her mind of Jack and Ianto… no, more likely Jack and Owen… watching her the same way they were watching Patanjali, probably wondering if she was ever going to figure it out or if she was going to get cold, get bored… give up. Go home. Maybe even taking bets as to how long it would take her. "Right," she said. "Someone should go and talk to him."

"Are you serious?" Mickey asked, clearly not believing that she could be.

"Well we can't just have him wandering around out there asking questions, can we?" and with that, she was off towards the cog door before either of them could stop her.

"We'd better call Jack," Mickey echoed Gwen's earlier sentiment.

Sara was already dialling the number for his mobile.

* * *

"I'm telling you, she's fine!" Nerys insisted; she'd greeted them at the front door and seemed to be almost refusing to let them in, stepping out onto the front porch to talk instead, as if that by denying them access, she could deny that anything bad had happened.

"Nerys—" Jack struggled to keep his composure. He hadn't driven all the way there to be turned back at the door. Besides, he could see what she was doing and denying that something had happened didn't change the fact that… his mobile rang. "I'm starting to really hate this thing," he muttered as he flipped it open. "Yeah?"

"Jack, it's Sara," she said. "Something weird is happening."

"Tell me about it," he grumbled.

There was a long pause on the other end. "Jack… Jason… is he… was he affected by whatever affected all the other children this morning? Is he all right?"

That got his attention in a hurry. "What? What other children?"

Ianto shot him a questioning look, but all the Captain could do was hold up his hand, he would explain what was going on as soon as he knew himself.

"_All_ the other children," Sara told him over the phone. "Everywhere," she relayed the story in as few words as possible—which given the lack of facts, wasn't terribly difficult.

He hung up with her; instead of turning to Ianto, Jack looked at Nerys. "We need to talk to Remy. Now." But first he was going to call his mother to make sure Jason was all right…

* * *

Wendy had no idea how long she'd been standing there. The sky was still dark. The moon seemed to have moved closer to the horizon. Behind her, in the Wilson's house, she heard somebody's pager start to beep. She stood, watching the sky, waiting, tension mounting… something was happening. Something was coming. Something terrible. Something that had happened before.

Upstairs in the guest bedroom, Bobby woke… found her side bed empty. He squinted at the clock; it read 5:22 am.

He slid on his bathrobe and crept down the hall…Wen wasn't in the bathroom. He spied a light on in Amber and James' bedroom, heard someone speaking in hushed tones… he couldn't make out whether it was James or Amber. Before he had the chance to tap on the door and ask if everything was all right, his mobile rang. He padded quickly back down the hall and picked it up off the nightstand.

"Hello?"

"Bobby, it's Ianto," the Welshman's voice sounded strained.

"What's going on…it's…" he did the math. It was ten thirty in the morning on the other side of the Atlantic.

"Have you been anywhere near a radio or the tele?" the other cut him off.

"What? No. It's the middle of the night over here."

"I know, sorry. Something's happening."

Bobby frowned, glanced at the empty pillow where Wendy had gone to sleep next to him. "What's do you mean, what's going on?"

"I don't know exactly. But it's happening all over the world. It has something to do with the children. It started this morning, around eight forty, they all just… every child in the world just stopped. And just now it happened again. Only this time… every child in the world spoke in unison, Bobby," he told the Australian over the phone, only barely able to believe what he was saying himself. "They said 'we are coming.' Jack says he's never heard anything like it before."

"My God. Jason—?"

There was only a very brief pause on the other end, just long enough for the younger man to swallow back the cold hard lump in his throat. "He's fine, just a bit of a tummy ache this morning. Not sure if it's connected or not. Jack figures he's not being affected by…by whatever it is because of the erm… special circumstances." Being born in the fifty first century… but Remy… Gavin's children… Cade's… "As far as we know, he's the only one who hasn't been affected it."

"What about RJ?" he wanted to know.

"He's too young we think. It only seems to be affecting children about five years and older. Just the children, not teens." He'd already been on the line to Sarah Jane. Luke was fine, so were his friends, but Sarah Jane didn't have any more idea what was going on than they did.

"What do you want me to do?" asked Bobby.

"Just keep your eyes and ears open. We're doing what we can to figure it out, but honestly…honestly I don't know what to say. Jack and I are on our way into the Hub. Hopefully we'll have some answers soon."

"All right. Keep in touch," he said and hung up. James was coming down the hall, dressed, looking harried. "What's going on?" Bobby asked him.

"Something happened at the hospital, some kind of… emergency," he shrugged, clearly uncertain what the real story was. "Cuddy called everybody in."

"I'm coming in with you. I just have to find Wendy first."

"Do you know something the rest of us don't?" he tucked in his shirt.

"I," he hesitated, "I can't say for sure. But I just got a call from work. Something's happened. I'm guessing it's the reason you were called in."

The Amreican paled. The last few years… the Atmos thing… the ghosts before that… last year, Daleks… "Would you really tell us what was going on if you knew what was going on?"

"Yes. If I could—if I can, when we figure it out. You have my word."

Wilson regarded him a moment, then nodded. "I'll see if Wendy's downstairs with Amber," he offered.

"Thanks. I won't be long," he said and started getting himself dressed. At the very least, if something had _really _spooked Wen, the whole house would have heard it by now.

_And wouldn't **that** be interesting to explain… _


	10. Ch 10 Day One, Part Three

* * *

First off, a **H*U*G*E** thank you to Kitsa for letting me bounce some ideas off her and for helping me sort though some of the details.

Also, many **H*U*G*E** thank yous to everybody who has reviewed, fave'd/story alerted, or just keeps on reading without commenting! Reviews, of course, always go an extra long way towards making my day all the better… ;-)

* * *

**Chapter Ten:**

**Day One, Part Three**

_"Never despair; but if you do,  
work on in despair."_

Edmund Burke

* * *

Sleeping in Gibbs' spare room, Tim realized, well after it was too late to easily make alternative arrangements, was even more difficult for him than if he and Abby had gone to stay with his parents (who were next on the list of people he wanted to visit while they were in the States.) His folks, while the picture of perfect conservative Irish Catholicism, easily accepted the fact that he and his girlfriend lived together in what was essentially a one bedroom apartment. Gibbs accepted the facts as they were… but he had this way of _looking _at him that made McGee feel like he was doing something wrong just by curling up next to Abby in a bed at Gibbs' place. He doubted the feeling would go away even after they were married. Which was probably why, at six o'clock in the morning, he was up drinking coffee, quietly listening to the little transistor radio in the Gibbs' kitchen...

"Bed not comfortable, McGee?"

The younger man jumped, yelping and spilling his coffee all over the table. It dribbled down onto the linoleum, pooling up under his bare feet, much to his irritation.

His host shook his head, chuckling softly; he tossed over a towel from the sink.

McGee caught it deftly, one handed. "Thanks, Boss," he didn't think before saying it. He went about sopping up the spilt coffee. There had been a time, years in the past, when he would have hesitated, embarrassed, apologizing all over himself, a time when Gibbs would have had to tell him what to do next even though it was painfully obvious what needed doing.

The retired NCIS officer regarded his former colleague a moment; the ease of that catch hadn't gone unnoticed, either. "I'm not your boss any more," he said, rather than commenting.

The other stopped, realized what he'd just said. "Guess not," he replied in a casual tone as he went back to cleaning up the mess. "But you're not a probationary field officer any more. Mike Franks still calls you 'Probie', doesn't he?" he glanced up, just briefly.

"He always will," Gibbs agreed, flashing a wry half-grin; he'd used that exact same argument to convince McGee that having Tony calling him Probie wasn't (necessarily) an insult. He grabbed a second towel from the drawer and tossed it on the floor to get the puddle at McGee's feet.

They both stopped working when a new story came over the morning news. Reports were coming in from around the globe. For the second time that morning, every child in the world had stopped—just stopped. This time, however, they let out a collective ear piercing scream before uttering an ominous pronouncement.

_We are coming._

………………………………………………………………

"Are you all right?" Ianto asked when Jack hung up his mobile, flipping it shut, hard. They'd just turned into the car park by the quay.

Ianto had finished his conversation with Bobby and was about to phone Tim… but Jack's ire was palpable. He'd been on the line with the Home Office, so little wonder, but it seemed worse than usual. Apparently whomever he'd been speaking with didn't know what Torchwood was. Under better circumstance, he would have teased him about that delicate ego of his… But not today.

"Yeah, I'm fine," the older man lied. He pulled the black SUV into its usual spot. He put it into park, but didn't cut the engine. "You go on in without me," he said, brusquely changing the subject.

"What? Where're you going?"

"I…" he hesitated, "I have something I need to take care of."

Ianto gave him a speculative look, but he knew that expression, Jack's face was like cold stone. Whatever it was, he wasn't going to talk about it until he was ready—if he was ever ready. There were times, even now, when the Welshman wondered how much his husband still kept from him, wondered why. "Will you be long, do you think?" he asked, instead of pressing the issue directly.

"I don't know. I shouldn't be." His expression, his tone, softened. He hesitated another moment, then reached over and took the other's hand in his. He rubbed his thumb over the band on his ring finger wondering just how guilty he looked, wondering why Ianto put up with so much from him. How could anybody love somebody so much… how could one person make another so happy, just by being themselves? _But you do…_ he thought in the younger man's direction. "I'll be back as soon as I can. Meantime, you four keep working on this," he instructed, his tone brisk again. "Nothing else matters but figuring out what's going on, finding a way to stop it if that's what we have to do."

"All right," the other agreed. He pulled his hand away from Jack's warmth, missed it immediately, and undid his seatbelt. He got out…hesitated…then turned back towards the SUV, just as the other was putting it into reverse. "Jack..." he shoved his hands into his trouser pockets. "I love you, you know."

He smiled—it melted the younger man's heart, lifted it. "I know. I love you too, Ianto Jones-Harkness. I will _always_ love you."

Ianto's smile was a reflection of Jack's "Be careful out there, will you?"

"There's nothing to worry about." His smile turned into a cocky grin. "I can't die, remember?"

"But you _can_ get hurt," he answerd him, unwilling to give into the other's banter.

Jack leaned across the seat and Ianto met his kiss at the window. "You be careful too," he said. "You're not even supposed to be here, you're on family leave, remember?" he added in an intentionally light tone that (finally) brought a smile to that beautiful Welsh face.

"I'll just ring up the aliens, then, and see if I can persuade them to delay their invasion plans for another couple of months. Do you think they'll go for it?" he teased. The lightness of his tone belied the tightness in his chest, the fear. That… sound… the scream had come out of Remy's mouth… the words…

_We are coming…_

They'd tried to convince Nerys to let them bring her back to the Hub, but Ner refused to let her daughter out of her sight. All things considered, Ianto didn't blame her. There was no guarantee they could keep her safe. They didn't know what was causing it or why, they were only guessing it was alien in nature because at the moment that made more sense than anything else they could think of.

Ianto pressed another soft kiss to his husband's lips before straightening so Jack could pull out. He stood there and watched him drive away. "I'll always love you too, Captain Jack Harkness," he said to the departing vehicle.

Softly under his breath he whispered another name, Jack's real name, so very quietly that no one would have heard it, even if they were standing right next to him.

"I will love you until the last star burns out of the sky and even then…even then I won't stop. I won't _ever _stop loving you." He wiped the moisture from his corners eyes…it wasn't even noon and already his guts were in knots…fear… helplessness.

"Right, enough of that," he scolded himself. There was always hope.

He dialled Tim's mobile as he headed towards the tourist office, where the new clerk was manning the information desk, trying very hard to maintain his own façade of calm in the wake of this morning's events.

Ianto gave him a friendly wave as he walked in…the young man behind the desk hit the switch under it to open the secret door in the wall. Despite everything, the Welshman found himself smiling, just a little. If his mam had thought it odd having an American working for the Tourist Bureau, he wondered what would have made of Sam, who hadn't even been born on their planet. _Thankfully, I don't think anybody will ever tell her,_ he mused.

Thousands of miles away, five hours earlier, Tim McGee answered his mobile phone with the customary greeting: "McGee."

"Tim, it's Ianto. We have a situation. Have you heard a news broadcast yet this morning…?"

…………………………………………………………….

"Where's Jack?" Mickey asked when their fearless leader's partner stepped through the cog door alone. Ianto wasn't dressed for work, not in his usual attire, anyway. Jeans. T-shirt…hoodie. Denim jacket over that. Christ. The world really must be coming to an end.

"Dunno," Ianto answered, entirely too casually. He flipped his mobile shut and pocketed it.

"What do you mean, you don't know?" Mickey pressed him. "He was with you, wasn't he? And what're you doing in, anyway, you're supposed to be on leave."

Ianto rolled his eyes. It was one thing to get that from Jack, but he would not have the whole team having a go at him over where he should be in the middle of a global emergency. "Given the current circumstances," he began, his tone betraying his irritation.

"Oi," Gwen snapped, cutting their argument short before it even got started. "We're looking at footage," she told Ianto in a calmer tone; she and Sara had been going over newscasts, videos of children chanting, all at the same time. It was the same thing all over the world:

We…

We are…

We are coming…

The same thing over and over… and then… then it just stopped. It stopped and the children carried on as they had been, as if nothing was wrong.

"We were up in the Plass when it happened the second time," Sara added, giving over an inquisitive look, wondering if Ianto had seen it too—or if Ianto and Jack had seen it, presuming they'd been together like everyone thought.

"Jack and I were with my sister and…and my niece," he answered her unspoken question, his voice straining with the emotions he was trying desperately to keep under control.

"Is she all right?" the American queried.

"They all seem to be all right, don't they?" he countered, sliding out of the denim jacket, suddenly realizing what he was wearing. Jack was always saying that the world wouldn't end if he didn't wear a suit into work… perhaps he was wrong about that.

He headed for the coffee station, hoping that by going through his usual routine he could somehow restore order some to the world—or at least that he could restore some order to _his_ world. "Apart from that, they all seem fine, though," he said to the others over his shoulder. He started the coffee.

Only instead of feeling better, the knot in his chest only tightened as he worked. He'd never seen Nerys so frightened… his mam… Trea had called… even Cade phoned, just to see if it was really _all _the children, if Remy, if Gavin and Trea's children… if they'd all stopped, too.

Just then, he felt the familiar touch of Gwen's hand on his shoulder. "Ianto?" her concern was audible.

"They don't even remember doing it," he whispered. "They don't remember stopping…speaking. Screaming. They _don't_ remember."

She gave over a tight lipped smile, "I know. Look, Ianto, why don't you…"

"Don't you _dare_ suggest I go home, Gwen!" he snapped at her angrily.

She nodded, giving his shoulder a gentle squeeze, recognizing anger. Fear. "All right. Why don't you let me get that, then, you go see if you can sort out the footage…?"

He rolled his eyes. "I get the coffee, Gwen. _That's_ what I do for Torchwood."

"Ianto, you're more than just a… I mean…" she floundered as the words 'tea boy' died on her lips.

"I know what you mean," he cut her off. "But this is what I _need_ to do." He turned to face her fully, his expression softening. "Go on. I'll get this. We'll all be the better for it and you know it."

"I am rubbish at making coffee, aren't I?" she managed a meagre little smile.

"A bit, yeah," he teased back. "Go on. I'll just be a tick."

"All right then. But better make mine a tea, yeah?"

"Absolutely."

A few moments later he rejoined the others carrying a tray of mugs, one tea and three coffees. Each was done perfectly, to his each of his colleagues' exact specifications—not that he'd ever had to ask them how they took it. It was one of the many things Ianto Jones simply seemed to know.

"…look, it's got to be a transmission of some sort," Sara was saying, her frustration evident. She flashed a smile a pure gratitude, however, when Ianto pressed a mug of coffee into her hands. "It has to be something only children can hear. That's the only thing that makes any sense!"

"I'm telling you, I'm not picking up anything!" Mickey insisted. "Pulse, broadcast, whatever, there's nothing there!"

"Well there has to be _something_," said Gwen. She pulled up more footage on her screen, hoping to find something, some clue…anything. She frowned. "Sara…" she motioned for the other woman to come over to her station. "Have a look…what do you see?"

"Ey?" Mickey asked, craning his neck around to see what they were doing.

"Maybe it's like those mosquito alarms," Ianto was saying; he leant back against the nearest table. "Like Sara said, something only kids can hear. Maybe tied to… I don't know…testosterone…oestrogen, maybe? Only pre-adolescents are being affected, so—"

"Why didn't our instruments pick it up, then?" the other man wanted to know. "They don't have testosterone or oestrogen!"

"Look, I'm only throwing out suggestions, if you've got a better theory—"

"Hey, guys, you might want to look at this," Sara called over; she could see that the 'debate' was about to escalate into an argument. Between Ianto's emotional state and Mickey's lack of sleep… "This is coming in from Taiwan," she added, drawing their attention away from each other and towards Gwen's computer screen.

"It's just more of the same," Mickey waved it off, still irriated.

"Wait a minute…" Ianto pushed off the desk and moved closer to the screen.

"They're speaking in English," said Gwen, at the same time as he was coming to the same realization. "Every single child in the whole wide world is speaking…_English_," she gave the others a perplexed look as they gathered around. "Why English?"

"I suppose if someone out there were looking down here, English must be the dominant language, right?" Mickey suggested. "That makes sense."

Ianto and Sara both shook their heads, exchanging looks. Mickey was brilliant at some things, but…

"Actually, Chinese is the dominant language on the planet," the Welshman corrected his colleague. "Well…Mandarin, to be precise. Three times more people speak Mandarin than English."

"If whoever is doing this just wanted to communicate, they wouldn't be doing it in English," Sara agreed. "They'd be doing it in Chinese. Mandarin," she corrected herself for his benefit, taking another sip of coffee. "So…why are they speaking English?" she asked the question they were all thinking.

"I don't know," Ianto settled his hands on his hips. "But maybe if we can figure _that_ out, we'll finally know what the Hell's going on out there."

Agreeing, the others went back to work, each exploring a different theory, a different angle, hoping that one of them would latch onto the right answer.

"Oh my God," Gwen was the first to break the silence.

"What is it?" Ianto asked her.

She glanced over her shoulder at him...the others. "Ok, so every single child in the world is talking in unison, yeah? Well look at this…" she stepped aside so they could see the footage of the fifty-one year old man on her screen. "Every single child. And one man."

"_We are coming…" _

"Where did you get this?" Ianto wanted to know…

……………………………………………………….

Frustration and anger pooled in Jack's chest as he exited the well kept suburban home. Things hadn't gone as planned inside. They never went as planned, not here, but just once… shoving his ire aside, trying to concentrate on new options, he pulled his phone from his coat pocket.

Without thinking about what he was doing, he dialled Ianto's mobile instead of the main line for the Hub.

"Hello?" the younger man answered on the first ring; he sounded harried, but less emotionally drained than he had earlier.

Working must have done him some good. Little wonder, really. He smiled. He couldn't help it. There was just something about hearing his partner's voice that made him feel better. "It's me," he identified himself. "Anything?"

There was a pause on the other end of the line; his good mood evaporated.

"Ianto? Talk to me…" _please don't tell me something __**else **__has gone wrong, not today. _Around him, everything seemed peaceful. Quiet. If it weren't for the events of the morning, it would be a beautiful day. A perfect day.

On the other end of the phone, the younger man cleared his throat. "Gwen is on her way to Springstead," he stated simply.

"_**What?"**_

"I know she's supposed to be on light duty, Sir," he remained unflustered despite his outburst. "But it was her lead. She insisted."

Jack felt his jaw clench. "And you _**let **_her?" he demanded.

"She's gone to interview a psychiatric patient, Jack, not take on a pack of angry Weevils."

"Psychiatric patient?"

"A Timothy White," he read the name off his screen. "Mr White is being affected by the same…the same whatever it is, that's affecting the children. According to his records, he's fifty one years old and has been in and out of care for nearly forty years."

Jack leant against the fender of his car, closing his eyes, absorbing the details. "All right. Fine. But would you mind telling me why you didn't at _**least **_send Sara or Mickey Mouse with her?" his tone was scathing.

"I sent Mickey to my sister's. Jack, he got less than two hours of sleep last night. He's not going to be of any use to anyone if he doesn't get some rest," he informed the other in a curt tone. "He was falling over."

He didn't need to tell Jack that would be good for Nerys to have Mickey there—or that he knew it meant he was playing favourites, putting Nerys above the rest of the citizenry of Cardiff. At the moment he didn't care about the rest of the citizenry of Cardiff. _She_ was his sister. If they couldn't tell her what was causing her daughter to speak in a weird alien voice, the very least he could do was send Mickey over to be with her while they figured out what was really happening.

"Sara's working on a program to locate the source of the signal," he went on. "And I've been on the phone to Martha. She's stuck in New York and doesn't know anything. Neither does Elizabeth Shaw."

Jack rubbed the back of his neck. Ianto's tone was cool bordering on cold. Angry. He supposed the younger man had the right to be angry and yelling at him because he would have done things differently—because never would have sent Gwen off to Springstead alone—wasn't helping matters any. In fact, the Captain was quite completely certain it was only hurting things. "All right," he said. "Good work. Earlier somebody said something about some doctor at St Helen's?"

"A doctor…" Ianto paused while he brought the half completed report up on his screen. "Patanjali. Rupesh Patanjali. Why?"

"Get me his number."

There was an extended silence on the other end of the line, far longer than it should have taken anyone, least of all Torchwood's senior archivist, to get a simple phone number.

"I need to speak to a doctor," Jack told him, hoping it would be was explanation enough.

"We have a medical officer, Jack."

"Yeah. I know. He's stuck in New Jersey, remember?"

"Point taken. Hang on."

"Thanks…hey, Ianto…"

"I'm fine, Sir," he said, before the other could ask.


	11. Ch 11 Day One, Part Four

**Ok, personal note:**

So far, I am loving Torchwood CoE. Maybe not every little decision, but even with the decisions I don' t like, the writing is superb. I honestly have no complaints, not even after Day Four aired in the US. It was brilliantly done and I am *not* one of the fans buying tar and feathers for RTD. I *do* wonder about what they will do with Torchwood for a fourth season, if there is one (which I hope there will be), but I'm certainly excited to see what they do next with the team. There is a lot of potential left for great story telling.

* * *

**Chapter Eleven:**

**Day One, Part Four**

_"Courage is not the absence of fear,  
but rather the judgment that something else is more important than fear." _

_Ambrose Redmoon_

* * *

There had been nothing for Wendy to do for most of the morning but sit and watch as frantic parents streamed into the hospital's clinic with their children, begging for answers that no one could give them. Finally, frustrated and needing to do something useful before she crawled out of her own skin (or worse yet into her other skin), she asked the nearest nurse what she could do to help.

"Who did you say you were, again?" the older woman inquired, probably having noticed her loitering around the windows the last hour or so. Her attention was continually being drawn eastwards, towards home.

"Wendy Shutten," she handed over her ID. "I'm with the Torchwood Institute, Cardiff. I don't know much about medicine, but I can file paperwork, direct traffic, and push carts." She omitted the fact that she also made a mean cup of coffee. Ianto might find comfort in the domestic, but her nerves were on fire with the need to actually _do _something. "I'm here with Bobby—Robert—Chase," she added, hoping that might make some difference. Bobby was with his old boss's team of doctors. She'd been with them for a while, but over half of what they said about went right over her head.

It wasn't House's occasional (or not so occasional) snarky comment, or the way the Thirteen eyed her with suspicion—the way Taub tried very hard not to look at her at all. The anxiety dripping off Foreman. It was the feeling of complete and utter uselessness that had gotten to her. If she were at home, there would be something for her to do, someone she could help, even though she wasn't an expert at anything—even though she'd never gone to university. At home she was respected. Valued.

Here…here she was nothing, no one, just Chase's new girlfriend, an extension, an appendage. _Quieter than the last one_…House liked that about her.

The nurse handed her back her ID, still looking dubious. She'd never heard of the Torchwood Institute; no civilians outside the UK had. But… "I suppose we _could_ use another volunteer," she said, "as long as you don't mind getting your hands dirty."

"Not at all. Thank you."

………………………………………………………………..

Bobby leant back against the desk and watched the scan currently in progress. Emmet Fairfield was the sixteenth or seventeenth child they'd run tests on. So far they hadn't found anything unusual… that meant it had to be an outside source, targeting them, somehow. _Targeting them, but not Jack's kid, not Jason._ Something about Jason made him safe… at least as safe as the only child not being affected could be. Sooner or later someone was bound to notice him.

He ran his fingers through his hair and excused himself to go out to the lobby where he could check his phone for new messages and look for Wendy, make sure she was holding up all right. He couldn't help the feeling he'd abandoned her, but he needed to be in on the testing and he understood why she'd left the conference room earlier. Even though House hadn't put her down for being less educated than the rest of them (mainly because he had no idea, Wendy was too quiet to give him any clues), he knew the things she was sensitive about.

The lobby was quieter than he'd expected; Bobby chose an empty sofa for added privacy and checked his phone. Sara had texted them earlier with an update, not that there was much to say. Mickey had gone to Nerys' for a kip, Gwen was on her way to see some guy in a psychiatric facility in England—Jack had gone off on some private errand. Ianto was in and making everybody coffee. In other words, it was status quo.

And there were no messages. Hopefully no news meant good news…he looked around but didn't see Wen. _Maybe she's gone for a bit of air…_

He was about to dial Abby's phone, just to check in with her, when Eric Foreman slumped down next to him, uninvited.

The other doctor shot over a speculative look. Bobby ignored it; twice already Lisa Cuddy had asked him if 'his people' had figured it out yet. He'd tried to explain that he didn't have people, he worked for a very small agency, little more than civil servants, really… she wasn't buying it. She remembered the Atmos incident. Thankfully, she _didn't_ know about the time he'd called House for a consult, he was sure he wouldn't have been able to brush her off if she did...and it wasn't even that he was brushing her off, he honestly didn't know any more than anybody else.

Foreman's voice cut through his thoughts: "How do you do it?"

He regarded him a moment. "Do what?" he finally asked.

"You're still Catholic, aren't you?"

He frowned. "Yes." It was no secret he'd gone to seminary school once upon a time, nor did he made any kind of secret of his faith. He didn't make an issue of it, either. "What has that got to do with anything?"

"How do you do it?" Foreman repeated the question. "How do you go on, day in and day out, believing in everything you were taught about God when you know it's not true?"

"_What?"_

"Come on, Chase, we all know what you do."

"You have no idea what I do—and anyway, that's got nothing to do with my faith in God," he said, trying to divert the subject, not that he actually wanted to have a debate about religion with his former colleague. As far as he'd seen Foreman wasn't an especially religious man, although he was under the impression his parents were.

Just the same, he would have expected a question like that from House—or Alison. They were both Atheists, although it was only the former who made a habit out of challenging other people's beliefs for his own amusement. Alison was usually content to leave the subject of religion alone.

"How can anyone still believe in _anything_ we've been taught after last year?" Foreman was saying. "There were aliens. On _this _planet. We all saw them. Doesn't that contradict—?"

"Eric, look, if you believe in God then you believe He created everything. That includes life on other worlds."

"You really believe that God created those…things?"

"The Daleks?" Bobby said the word with neither fear nor anger. "Of course I believe He created them. Or…well, I believe He created the planet they came from, the race they're descended from, just the same as He created the Earth and us."

The other frowned.

"They didn't start out like that, nothing does. They made themselves into what they are. It's called free will," he added, since they seemed to be discussing religion, at least ostensibly.

"How…?" he couldn't seem to fully formulate the question.

Bobby leant back into the cushions. No one was paying any attention to them, they were just two more tired looking doctors who had been called in, in the middle of the night. "I was a volunteer with UNIT before coming here," he said in a quiet tone. It wasn't technically a secret, it just wasn't something he talked about, or something he would have put on his resume. "The first time I came face to face with an alien life form was in London. They weren't friendly. That's how I met Jack—my boss," he couldn't help the flash of a smile that played across his lips at the memory of that first meeting with the infamous Captain Harkness. He was just a kid, petrified, and on the wrong end of a very big gun…and there was Jack, larger than life, ever the dashing hero, pulling him out of the way, getting himself shot…killed… coming back to life…

"My job involves dealing with things like this, Eric, but that _doesn't _mean I have all the answers—that Torchwood has all the answers. It just means that we try, we don't give up, don't panic under pressure. If we did, we'd be dead—and probably so would a lot of other people."

The other remained speechless—definitely a first, Bobby reckoned.

"You're really ok with a job that could get you killed?"

"I could get killed by a car while crossing the road," he said with rueful smirk. "At least doing what I do, I'm making a difference. My life means something. Maybe not today or tomorrow, but someday… someday the world will be a better place and I know I'll have had a hand in that. So yeah, I'm ok with job. I can't imagine ever doing anything else."

"You don't look outside, look at the footage of all those kids this morning, and wonder where God is in all this? You don't wonder, if He exists at all, why all this keeps happening? You don't feel abandoned?"

"I have faith that God knows what He's doing—and I think He has faith in us, too."

………………………………………………

"Hey," Sara greeted Gwen when she came into the Hub; it was late. They still hadn't heard from Jack. Ianto had kept himself busy all day helping her with a new computer program, searching the archives for information… doing just about anything he could think of, it seemed, to keep himself from wondering where Jack had gone and why he hadn't bothered to call in, if only to say he was all right.

"Oh hi," Gwen returned her smile, "Ianto," she greeted her countryman as well. She didn't have to ask if they'd heard from Jack, she could see by his expression that they hadn't. Oh, was she going to give it to him when he got back! He'd been gone all bloody day…

"Are you all right?" Sara asked, drawing her up out of her ire. "You look a little pale."

"I just got back from England, what do you expect?" she teased.

Sara laughed; she'd heard Mickey going at it with both Gwen and Ianto, entirely good naturedly, at least most of the time, about the differences between their two countries.

"I've got it!" Ianto announced over his shoulder. "There's a Holly Tree Lodge just outside of Arborough," he read the information off his screen. "It's a hotel now, but up until 1965 it was a state run orphanage… are you sure you're all right?" he asked then, in Gwen's direction.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. First trimester, that's all," she forced a smile. Her hand went reflexively to her mid-section even though there wasn't so much as a bulge beneath her t-shirt yet. Truth was, she was dead on her feet and she knew it, but being relegated to desk duty was so infuriating! And it wasn't as if she was putting anyone in danger, herself or the baby included, by going to interview one old man. He'd been a bit peculiar, but he wasn't dangerous, she was sure of that. He was a victim, just like all those kids.

"Why don't you sit down," Ianto suggested in a kind tone, his smile warm. "I'll fix you a nice cuppa," he offered. The information he'd found on Clem MacDonald could wait ten more minutes. After all, it had been sitting there collecting proverbial dust for the last forty years. MacDonald wasn't going anywhere.

And as much as she didn't want to be coddled, the thought of a cup of tea was too marvellous to turn away. "All right. But… I'm just… I know I'm being silly…" she hesitated, then nodded towards the medical bay. She just wanted a quick look, just to make sure that everything was all right.

"You're not being silly," Sara told her.

"Not at all," Ianto seconded the notion as he headed towards the coffee station. He remembered when Jack was pregnant with Seren. He'd never felt so close to his husband than had those nine months…the months that followed. But now that they were home, now they were back to work…or at least that Jack was back to work, and it was like they were having to find their footing with one another all over again. He hated it.

The cog door rolled aside...he looked up to see who... it was Jack. He swallowed, but before he could speak, Gwen's voice drifted up from the medical bay.

"'Bout time you got back!" she teased as she set up the scanner—she couldn't be sure whether it was Jack or Mickey, she couldn't see up into the main area of the Hub, she'd just heard the door.

All Ianto needed was one look at his partner...his husband... to know something was wrong and it wasn't Gwen's teasing. He started to ask, but Jack waved it aside.

"What do you have?" he asked by way of hello. "Pease tell me you have some new information."

Sara bristled at his tone. "As a matter of fact yes. What about you?" she challenged.

They glared at one another for several long moments.

"Yeah," Jack finally said, not breaking eye contact, not making any attempt to hide his anger. "Somebody tried to kill me. _Did_ kill me. And another man, that Dr Patanjali you met earlier today. We need a clean up at St Helen's, by the way," he added offhandedly in Ianto's direction. He regretted his tone almost immediately. He knew what it did to him when he died, how much it tore him apart. He supposed the casualness of his order for a clean up hadn't helped matters any, either.

Sara cleared her throat. "I'm sorry," she apologized softly to the pair of them.

"Not your fault," Jack answered, his tone cool, brisk. He wasn't looking at her any more, but it wasn't because he was angry, at least not with her. All he could see was the way Ianto was looking at him, how much he'd hurt him. Again.

Sara saw it too and offered to get the clean up started.

Jack nodded; he was barely aware of her getting her gear together. "Ianto, I—"

"Right, then," the other cut him off, his tone superficially brisk. "Would you like me to start a pot of coffee for you, Sir? That industrial strength brew of yours?"

"Ianto—"

He turned away as Jack reached for him. Instead of heading immediately to the coffee station, however, he peered over the rail into the medical bay. "Gwen, are you all right down there?" he called, as much to avoid Jack as to find out what was taking her so long. She certainly looked all right…

And his tactic worked, too. Jack peered down at her, his focus now solely on Gwen.

_Brilliant,_ the Welshman thought, acerbically, making his way over to the coffee station to put on that pot of coffee he'd just offered. He was acutely aware that he'd just pushed Jack further away when all he wanted to do was wrap his arms around him, hold him tight, convince himself that he was really all right. He hated Jack's cavalier attitude towards his own life, his own wellbeing. Some day his luck was going to run out, some day whatever it was that kept him alive, whatever 'wish' Rose Tyler had made was going to stop working… he clenched his jaw.

Brooding wasn't helping. He'd fix the coffee, deliver his report on Clem MacDonald and then pull Jack aside to apologize for being a git. They'd kiss. They'd make up. They'd save the world. Everything would be fine.

Gwen looked up as Jack joined her in the medical bay.

"What's wrong?" he asked. "The baby—"

"She's fine," she assured him. "I was just being a worrywart is all. Go on, have a look," she nodded towards the screen.

Jack placed his hand over hers, "Gwen—you've gotta be careful out there, you can't go taking chances—"

Suddenly every light in the Hub flared red as an ear-splitting alarm sounded out a warning.

"What the Hell…?" Gwen looked at him.

"Oh my God," Jack breathed, seeing it first, on the screen. There was a bomb. It was inside of _him. _Someone had booby trapped _him,_ they were using _**him**_ to blow up the Hub…Gwen…Sara. _Ianto._

Ianto and Sara appeared at the top of the stair. He opened his mouth to tell them what had triggered the alarm, but his partner… his lover… beat him to it.

"It's a bomb," the Welshman's face was pale. "It's… " he looked like he was going to be sick.

Jack grabbed Gwen and propelled her up the steps ahead of him, telling her she had to go, she had to get out of the Hub, they all did.

Gwen fought back. "No! We can fix this, we can deactivate it—Jack there's got to be something we can do!"

"I can't die, remember? Now get out here—all of you!" he repeated, looking frantically around for his Welshman. Ianto was at a computer. He started to say his name, but Sara cut him off:

"We can't just leave you! There's got to be some sort of protocol, some way to get it out of you before—"

"We've got two minutes," Ianto told them, his tone frighteningly calm.

"Then the protocol is for you to get out of here," said Jack. He took both women by the arms and shoved them at the cog door._ "Now," _he added when they continued to resist the idea of leaving him to be blown up.

Ianto still hadn't moved from the computer, either. "Blast radius…one mile, Jack," he met his gaze for the first time.

"We're not just going to abandon you, Jack!" Gwen insisted. "We're not going to just run away—!"

"You have a family Gwen—_now__** GO! **_Sara—_**go!"**_ he finally got them to the door. "Ianto!" he hollered. His Welshman was _still_ at his computer, still just…typing. "What are you doing?" a new alarm sounded, answering his question. He'd triggered the lock down. "Ianto, you'll be trapped, you have to get out of here—!"

"I can't just leave you to die, Jack!" his voice was thick with unshed tears. "You can't ask me to. You can't—_**please—!"**_

"I won't die. I _can't_. Ianto," Jack pulled him bodily away from the computer and dragged him to the lift; in his arms, the younger man was shaking. "I'll come back. I _always_ come back."

"There won't be anything left of you _to_ come back!"

"That doesn't matter, it's not how it works. Ianto!" he gave him a hard shake. "Seren _**needs**_ you. Our daughter—"

"She needs you too," his tone was enough to break Jack's heart.

He closed his eyes, just for an instant to collect his thoughts. They were running out of time. "I know. Ianto, _**I **_need you. If you stay with me here you'll be killed. I won't. No matter what happens to me, I will _always _come back. Please—_go!_ I'm not ready to lose you, not now. Not ever. _**Please!"**_ he begged.

Ianto's lips against his mouth silenced him. "I love you, Jack…Cariad," he breathed when he broke off the kiss, just enough to speak, still hanging on tight. Tears glistened in his eyes. "I—I'm so sorry for earlier—I love you so much! Please forgive me—"

"Shhhh," as gently as he could, he dislodged him, got him to the lift. "I love you too. I have…I will. I always will," he promised.

"Please—"

"We can talk about it later, ok?"

"Yeah. Yeah, ok," he choked back another sob.

Jack hit the button on his wrist strip to start the lift moving. Then he pulled the strap off his wrist, pulled the wedding ring from his finger. He handed them up to the younger man—Ianto looked like he'd been punched in the gut. "I'll survive. These might not. I need you to take care of them for me until I get back."

Wordlessly, the younger man nodded, swallowing back the lump of cold hard dread as he accepted the two items from his partner's outstretched hand. "You'd better come back for these, Jack Harkness," he warned as the lift carried towards the Plass.

"Count on it. And hey!" he hollered; Ianto was half way up, almost to safety. "Make sure Myfanwy stays out of trouble while I'm gone!" he forced one of his cocky half-grins. "The last thing I want to come back to is reports of a dinosaur flying all over Wales!"

"I'll try my best, Sir," the other answered loudly enough to be heard over the alarm, fresh tears spilling down his cheeks.

As soon as Ianto was clear, Jack ran to the computer terminal and changed the lockdown code from protocol one to protocol two. He doubted it would protect everything, but as a series of blast doors slid into place, he took some small satisfaction in the knowledge that whoever was trying to blow them up wouldn't likely be getting their hands on his private safe or the vaults down below…

He hoped.

* * *

**A/N:**

_yes, a little bit of a cheat there at the end, but really, if you're working with things as volitile as alien technology, wouldn't you have some kind of protection from things that go 'boom' *inside* the Hub as well as protection from things trying to get in??_


	12. Ch 12 CoE Day Two Part One

**A/N:**

Again, many, many thanks to those of you who contnued to read and review. Reviews make the Muses happy ;-)

And a huge thank you to the darling Kitsa, for continuing to let me bounce ideas off her.

The first bit of this is another one of those private little fantasies I've wanted to indulge in for a long, long time…

* * *

**Chapter Twelve:  
****Day Two, Part One**

"_The greatest test of courage on earth is to bear defeat without losing heart."_  
Robert Green Ingersoll

* * *

"I'm afraid you can't be here, _**Mr **_Gibbs," NCIS Director Leon Vance seemed to take particular delight in placing emphasis on Gibbs' civilian title. Mister. He was no longer anybody to the Navy, nobody to NCIS, he was just another retired Marine.

So why was he was looking at him with a glib look of his own? That smirk… it was like Leroy Jethro Gibbs knew something _he _didn't. And of course he did.

McGee stepped forward so he was standing exactly shoulder to shoulder with his old boss. "Maybe not, Director, but we can," he said in a far bolder tone than Vance would have ever expected, nodding slighlty back at Abby to include her in his 'we'.

Standing behind them, Abby Scuito beamed with pleasure and pride. That was _her_ Timmy taking charge.

"I beg your pardon?" Director Vance inquired.

Tim handed over his ID. "In accordance with Torchwood Three's agreement with UNIT—and subsequently the United States Government, as you_ are_ a part of the United Nations," he reminded Vance, needlessly, "I'm commandeering the use this NCIS facility, Sir," He spoke in the most authoritative tone he could muster, the sort of tone he hoped would make Jack—and hopefully Gibbs—proud of him.

Vance blinked. He took the ID out of McGee's hand and stared at it, still refusing to believe what he was seeing. There was no way someone like McGee worked for Torchwood… not that he knew what exactly Torchwood was, but one heard rumours...but still...

"And by the way," Abby told him in a smug little tone, "Gibbs is with us"

"You can't—" Vance began to object.

"Oh, I think they can," Gibbs told him. All day they'd watched the news, children all over the world saying the same thing, over and over. _We are coming_. No one knew what it meant, who the message was from—who it was for. Abby and McGee had been in touch with their boss, this Jack Harkness. But for Abbs to really feel useful, she needed to be doing something and that meant she needed a lab, a computer more powerful than his laptop.

He regarded NCIS director Vance. "Of course if you'd like to take it up with your boss," he suggested in a casual tone. "Or try to get someone from UNIT on the line," he shrugged. "But I'm thinking they're all kinda busy right now."

Tim plucked his ID back from the still-dazed Director's hand. "We'll do everything we can to stay out of your way, Sir," he assured him, although it was clearly a hollow promise.

"Director Vance!" someone called—woman, young. No one Gibbs knew, Tim or Abby, either. "Look," she pointed towards the large screen in the middle of the room. Someone had diverted the news feed.

"We are coming to you live from London where it's happening again," the reporter stated. Even she looked frightened.

The camera panned to a group of school aged children standing in the street.

"We are coming. We are coming. We are coming. We are coming—**back.**"

The room was quiet enough to have heard a pin drop on the carpeted floor...

……………………………………………..……......................………………

_I was going to fix the coffee. We'd kiss. We'd make up. We'd save the world. Everything would be fine. Everything was supposed to be **fine!**_

Ianto suppressed another bitter sob as he crawled out of the rubble; he had several new bruises, a few scrapes, a cut on his cheek. He barely felt any of it…he barely felt alive even though his heart was still beating, he was still breathing in the dust and smoke filled air. Everything was gone… the Hub, the tourist office…_**Jack**__…_ there was nothing left… _nothing left of __**him.**_ He crumbled to the ground, clutching at the wrist strap…fumbling to slide the ring onto his finger. He had to make three tries before he found one it fit on.

The explosion had rocked the ground under his feet and Jack had been at its epicentre. All around him there were little fires—not so little fires—bits of burning debris. _Please come back to me like you promised you would. I'm not ready to lose you either. I need you. I love you so much. _

Smoke burned in his lungs… the memory of that look on Jack's face, those blue eyes, trying so hard to convince him that he'd be all right, but he hadn't believed it himself. Jack hadn't believed everything he was saying. He wasn't sure he'd believed anything he was saying.

He knew he had to get his head on straight, he had get up and get moving, had to get out of there, find a safe place to figure out who had done this to them. Figure out what to do next. But all he could think of was a bomb ripping his husband apart from the inside out and he couldn't make himself move from the spot he'd fallen to.

His eyes found a dark patch of sky through the smoke and tears. "Please send him back to me. Please…" _Don't let our last conversation have been me being petty and stupid._

He forced himself to his feet and surveyed the area, desperate for some sign Jack had made it out of there, that he was still alive. If he could just find him, find some part of him, _anything.._. He _had_ to be there when he came back, he had to hold him through whatever torture he was going to go through when his body put itself back together again.

He had to get to his children, he had to make sure they were safe. They needed him. Seren. Jason. Jason wasn't being affected by whatever was affecting the other kids… _oh God, how long before somebody notices that?_ He had to get home…but he couldn't leave…

"Gwen!" He hollered into the smoke filled night. **"GWEN!** **SARA!"** _**Jack…**__oh God, Jack…_ he sobbed.

Emergency vehicles began arriving on the scene.

"**Sara!" **he called again. "Gwen! Can you hear me?"

Gun shots.

_Fuck._

Ianto ducked for cover, just barely avoiding being shot. He hadn't been wearing his gun when Jack made him leave…

More shots rang out into the night, just missing him.

"Ianto!"

"Sara!" he spotted the American behind a pile of debris, concrete, twisted metal. He sprinted for her as bullets rained down around him. _Shit! _He cursed silently as hot lead zipped past his head, just missing him again.

Sara grabbed him and pulled him behind the temporary cover; they didn't have long. Whoever was shooting at them, they had to know they weren't armed.

"Have you seen Gwen?" he asked.

She shook her head. "We got separated in the blast. Ianto," her voice wavered, "what about Jack?"

He swallowed back the fear, the cold lump in his throat, and forced a smile. She hadn't been with them long enough to have seen Jack come back from the dead. He had. It didn't make it any easier, but he had to believe... "He'll be all right," he told her in the bravest tone he could muster. "But I have to get to him to, I have to be there. I promised him once that I'd always be there when he came back."

"Ianto—the bomb, it was—" _there was nothing left of him, there couldn't be. _

"I know," he told her. "It was inside him. It doesn't matter. He'll be back. He always comes back. That's why I need you to get to Seren and Jason."

"What?"

"I need you to get them and Ella out of the city. I need to know that they're safe."

"Ianto— " How could he hope to find him in the wreckage?

"I'll find a way," he told her, seeming to understand her expression perfectly. He met her gaze dead on. "Jack's not here right now. That puts me in charge and this is an order," said in just as firm a tone as he could muster. It paled compared to Jack's. "I need you to get Jason, Seren and Ella and get them out of Cardiff. Take them to Sarah Jane Smith. Her address is in the rolodex on Jack's desk at our house. And Sara—you can't let anybody see Jason, you can't let them see that he isn't being affected like the other children."

She wiped her hand over her cheek, smudging soot and salty moisture across her face. "Ok. Just promise me you'll be all right."

"I'll be fine. I've lived through the end of the world, remember? Twice, in fact," he forced a smile.

Sara forced one too. "Where do you want to meet up?"

"I'll contact you at Sarah Jane's as soon as I've gotten the rest of the team back together. You have to stay there," he said, seeing in her brown eyes that she was about to argue the notion, volunteer to come back and help. "You have to be where I can find you, Sara. We can't risk phones or…or much of anything, not until we know who did this."

…………………………………………………………

In New Jersey, Dr Martha Jones Milligan eased her rental sedan into the visitor's lot in front of the Princeton Plainsboro teaching hospital, just as the the news report came across the radio. They were doing it again, all the children in the world were speaking in unison, only this time the message was a little different. _"We are coming back."_ Her stomach bottomed out when she heard it. Before she got out of her car, she tried Jack's mobile. Again.

Again, all she got was his voice mail.

"Come on, Jack. Where _are_ you?" she asked aloud. Frustrated, she hung up without leaving a message. She'd been trying his number for the last ten minutes.

……......................……………………………………………………………….

Sara Sidle made her way through the darkened city streets peering anxiously over her shoulder, gazing cautiously ahead, as wary of the CCTV system as she was of every passing car. She kept her head down and did her best to stay inside the shadows, while moving as quickly as she could to reach her first destination.

She paused a moment to listen before she peered around the tall fence at the quiet, narrow street beyond. She was near the University; it was early enough that students were still walking around, but the block seemed still. Two houses down, a dog barked. In the house across the street, someone was watching the television, she could see it through the parted curtains of the window.

A car approached…but didn't turn down that particular street. It looked like the kind of car a college student would drive—two passengers—young. Her heartbeat just a little slower once it was gone.

Carefully, she picked her way up the block towards the home of Gilbert Grissom. He had had moved to Cardiff less than a month ago to be with her. _If the mountain can't go Mohamed,_ he'd smiled at her, when she asked him to explain exactly what he thought he was doing.

She hoped it was a recent enough move not to put him on anybody's radar… _but how hard would it be to figure out? _She'd been with the Las Vegas Crime Lab before moving to Cardiff a year ago—Gil had been her boss. They'd worked together for years, even if for the most part they'd kept their relationship a secret.

She moved to Cardiff a little over a year ago, took a job with Torchwood in December. Then Gil came over for a forensics conference in the spring; she was an attendee. Her hotel room had been registered in the name of Torchwood. Now Gil was living in Cardiff, having taken a job at the University.

No, it wouldn't take much to put the pieces together, Sara decided.

Instead of letting herself in the front door, she crept around to the back, keeping one eye on the guy watching tv across the street. He wasn't paying attention to anything outside.

She stopped on the back porch and looked in. Gil was in the kitchen, in his bathrobe, a mug of coffee in one hand, science journal in the other. She smiled for just a moment as warmth spread through her… she tapped lightly at the door.

"Sara—" he greeted her with a concerned look.

Suddenly aware of what she must look like, she ran her fingers through her hair, trying to work out the worst of the gnarls. "I can't talk."

Despite her words, asked her what was going on, if she was all right.

"It's better… I can't tell you, I'm sorry," she couldn't look him in the eye. "But I need your help."

He only barley hesitated before asking what she needed.

"Your car. Money. And I need to get my clothes out of your closet," she pulled her hair into a ponytail with the cloth covered elastic band she'd slid around her wrist earlier in the day.

Gil was frowning at her. "Sara, what's going on?" his tone was remarkably calm, although realistically, despite the events of the last thirty minutes, so was hers.

"The less evidence there is of my being here the better."

"Sara—" he reached towards her, but she pulled away. "You're hurt. You've got a cut—" he motioned towards her face.

She waved him away, although a brief touch of her fingers to her own cheek revealed dampness…blood. She didn't feel it. "I'll take care of it later. I promise," she said to the concerned look on his face. "Gil, something happened tonight."

"The children."

She shook her head; he poured her a cup of coffee and despite her resolve to remove evidence from his home, not leave it, she accepted, sitting down at the table before she fell down. The adrenalin was wearing off.

"It's more than the children," she told him, "but it's probably connected. Someone… someone tried to kill us tonight," she admitted, as much because she hated lying to him as because she couldn't think of a convincing lie anyway. She still regretted it, he looked stricken.

"What happened?" He sat down next to her and laid his hand on her arm.

"They planted a bomb in…" her gut twisted. They'd planted a bomb _inside_ Jack. _**Inside**__ him!_ Inside a live human being. They, whoever they were, had shot him, put a bomb in him, knowing _exactly_ what was going to happen to him when it went off.

"Someone placed a bomb…?" Gil prompted.

She shook her head, unable to hold his gaze; tears welled up, but she refused to let them spill. It wasn't pride. She was afraid if she started crying, she might never stop. She'd seen enough dead bodies in her career as a crime scene investigator… and she'd seen what Ianto was holding when she left him. Jack's wrist strap, his wedding ring, He _never_ took those things off. "It's not important where they put it," she lied, her voice, her whole body shaking. Hurt. Anger…whoever had done this…whoever did this was going to regret it.

"Sara, everybody got out all right…didn't they?"

"I…I don't know. I think so."

"What aren't you telling me?"

She hesitated…but there was every reason to believe he could become a target, too. "Gil, until we figure out who attacked us, I can't trust anybody. Neither can you. Not the police, the authorities, _no one_."

"You think…what?" He scowled, easily piecing together the things she wasn't saying. "You think the British government is somehow responsible?" clearly he doubted her theory.

"Whoever did this knew things about Torchwood that nobody else could know. It had to be someone who has access to classified files, someone who knows…" _Jack._ Someone who knew that Jack couldn't die. Someone who knew that and put a bomb into his stomach anyway. She took another deep breath to steady herself.

He _said_ he couldn't die. But what if he was wrong? What if when they blew him up, they… she gave herself a mental shake. Jack had promised her that there would be days like this, days when she would have to follow orders even when she didn't like them. He'd promised her that she had his permission to yell at him all she wanted to later just as long as she did what he needed her to in the moment. She only hoped she could hold him to that promise this time.

"I need to get Jack and Ianto's family to safety," she told Gil, standing, getting herself under control. "And I need you to promise me you'll be careful until…until whatever is going on with the children is resolved. I don't know what's happening," she told him. "But we'll figure it out. Gil," she leaned in closer to him. "I don't know if you're—if because of me—anyone will come looking for you. So I need you to promise me that you'll get rid of as much evidence of my being here as you can."

"Your fingerprints are all over my house," he pointed out the obvious.

"I know. But they don't need to know…nobody needs to know exactly how important you are to me, Gilbert Grissom," she leant in pressed a kiss to his lips. His kiss was soft…it always amazed her how soft. She straightened, reluctantly. "Tomorrow morning I want you to call the police and report your car as stolen."

"Sara—"

"If anyone asks, you didn't see me tonight," she said, cutting him off. "You didn't help me. You haven't heard from me since we had dinner yesterday. Gil, I have no idea who's after us or why, but I won't be able to concentrate and do my job unless I know you're safe. _Please._ Promise me."

"All right."

…………………………………….....................……………………….

An officious looking woman in black gear surveyed the blast site, keeping her own people moving and the locals off the scene, making sure everything was going according to plan. Which it wasn't. She had no choice but to call in and report her lack of success.

"Target one has been eliminated. Targets two, three and four escaped. We don't know where the fifth target is."

"I thought you said you had this under control, Agent Johnson!" the middle aged civil servant spat into the phone, painfully aware that his family was within hearing range of the call. But at least, thank God, the girls had stopped saying that phrase, 'We are coming. We are coming. We are coming. We are coming—back.' "What about the rest of Torchwood?" he asked in a quieter tone.

"The teams deployed to the United States should be landing in just a few hours. We _will_ round them up."

"You'd better." He cut the line and snapped his phone shut. The only chance they had of containing the situation was to get Torchwood out of the way. Life had been so much simpler when there were fewer of them to deal with.


	13. Day Two Part Two

**A/N:**

**Thank you again for the reviews** that this has received!

**LizzRH** – your comments were very much appreciated and helped shape part of this, with Ianto overhearing Johnson (which works brilliantly to give him a sense of how bad the situation really is.)

**WickedwitchoftheSE **– Wendy going werewolf, huh? I think I can arrange that ;-) (not this chapter, though, too much else going on.)

**To everyone who has asked about Day Four and Ianto's fate: **I'm *not* deviating from the timeline I wrote for the _Bonny Welshman_ stories. Jack and Ianto have 14 years together… not as long as some might want (even me, that's why I sent Ianto back to him), but Torchwood agents really don't live to collect their pensions.

* * *

**Chapter Thirteen:  
****Day Two, Part Two**

_"While I breath, I hope"_  
Latin Proverb

* * *

"So this is what you do?" Gibbs inquired as he sat back watching Abby and McGee working. It had taken her less than thirty seconds to get rid of the scrawny little tech who had 'violated' her lab. After throwing a small fit about the state of the room, she pushed McGee out of the way and took over the computer so she could log into some outside server, presumably Torchwood's. Apparently, he wasn't doing it fast enough for her.

"This is what we do," the younger man answered his former boss with a smile as he watched Abby work.

She frowned. She hit a couple of keys over again. And again. And again.

"Something's wrong," she said over her shoulder. "I can't get into the network. It's like the computers at the Hub are all down." Only the computers were never down, not ever. Not unless no one was there and there was no way they weren't all there, not with what was going on with the children.

Tim scooted in next to her. "Here, let me try." He typed in his user ID and password only to get the same error message she had. "Hmph," he typed the information in a second time. He got the same error. His information wasn't being rejected it wasn't being _received_. Frowning, he did a quick check of the settings on the computer he was sitting in front of, but no, the problem wasn't on their end. The Hub's network was down.

"Something the matter?" Gibbs queried, coming up behind them.

"We should be able to connect directly to the…Institute's… internal computer network," Tim faltered at the word 'institute', still trying to maintain some cover story that didn't involve he and Abby catching aliens for a living. "Hang on, let me try something else," he said, as he tried logging onto the Torchwood server itself. Access was granted immediately. His frown deepened.

"Well?" Gibbs asked, staring at the honeycombed "T" logo that now occupied the computer screen. "It looks like you're in."

"That's just the server," Abby told him miserably. She started typing anyway, trying suss out the problem. She'd designed the new networking software herself. It had been working perfectly before they left.

"We can get into the main server without a problem," Tim explained to his former boss, a man who did not speak 'computer'. "But we _should_ be able to connect with whoever's still working on the network, whoever's still there."

Gibbs glanced at his watch. "It's gotta be what…ten o'clock at night on the other side of the Atlantic?"

"Uh-uh, no way," Abby insisted. "Jack is there. With something like this going on, Jack wouldn't be anywhere else." The information she was getting from the server indicated that the network had gone down just after an internal lockdown had been triggered. That meant…she pushed the thought aside. It didn't mean anything. "Jack is there, striding around the Hub looking all impressive and Ianto is making coffee and snarky comments and Mickey's…if he's messed up my system again, I'll kill him!" she seethed. It was obvious to both men that she was latching onto anything to avoid having to digest the information she was seeing on the computer screen in front of her.

McGee was seeing the same information. The Hub had gone into lockdown, protocol two. Jack said the last time he'd had to use protocol two was a hundred years ago when they recovered a canister filled with unstable anti-matter particles the Rift had dumped in the middle of the bay. He'd gotten the rest of the team out just in time… and it had taken them over a year to fully rebuild.

Tim pulled his mobile phone out of his jacket pocket and dialled his boss's number. It took six rings for him to pick up. "Boss—"

"This is Jack Harkness," said the recorded voice. "Leave a message and I'll get back to you."

He hung up the phone; Abby was looking at him hopefully with big green eyes.

"I got his voicemail," he told her the truth, even though he knew what it wasn't what she really wanted to hear. She wanted to hear that Jack was fine.

"Try again," she told him. "You have to try again—" she reached for the phone, but Tim evaded her.

"Hang on, I'm trying Ianto's," he said before she grabbed at it again.

A moment later, he got the Welshman's voicemail as well. Under any other circumstances he would have drawn a very different conclusion about what those two were up to, however…he hung up and dialled Mickey's phone, this time without telling Abby what he was sure she knew already. Ianto hadn't answered either.

It took three rings, but a familiar voice finally came over the line, a real person this time, not another recording:

"Yeah?"

"Mickey," he breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe it _was _just a technical glitch, some stupid malfunction. It wouldn't be the first time since they hooked up the new network that the system had given them problems. It was usually just a little hiccup.

"Tim? What's goin' on?" Mickey asked him.

"That's what we're trying to find out. I can't get a hold of either Jack or Ianto and it's happening again, with the kids—"

"Yeah, I know, I'm still at Nerys'. This time they said 'we are coming back.' That means they've been here before, yeah? Whoever _they _are."

"Yeah," Tim agreed. He'd perched himself on the edge of the nearest table, a bad habit he'd picked up from several of his colleagues. "Abby and I are inside the NCIS headquarters in Washington, DC," he explained. "We can log onto the main server, but can't seem to get into the Hub's network."

"Mickey—!" Nerys' called his name in the background. "Oh my God—_Mickey!"_

"Hang on, mate, something's just come on the tele…oh my God…"

A fresh wave of panic washed over Tim. "What is it, what's going on?"

"Timmy?" Abby got closer so she could find out what was making Tim look the way he was looking, his face all pinched together like that. "What is it, what's happening over there?" she demanded into the phone.

Tim wrestled it back from her. "Hang on—Mickey? Are you still there?"

"Yeah, I'm here," he sounded like somebody had just kicked him in the gut. "There's been an explosion… a bomb…"

"Mickey!" Abby made another grab for the phone.

Tim blocked her. "I'm putting you on speaker so Abby can hear you," he said for both their benefits as he hit the button for speaker and set the phone down on the table.

Nerys was crying in the background, saying something to her Mam about an explosion by the bay.

"What's going on over there!" Abby demanded.

"There's been an explosion," Mickey told them, his tone almost deadpan. "They're sayin' it was a bomb…some…they think it was _terrorists.._.terrorists targeting the…"

"No!" Abby yelled in the direction of the phone, cutting him off before he could finish his sentence. "No, no, no, no, no, no! Don't say it. Don't you dare say it!" she turned to Gibbs who wrapped his arms around her instinctively, protectively, not knowing, but guessing what was coming next. She was already starting to cry.

The colour had drained from McGee's face.

"Abbs," Mickey's voice over the phone was deathly calm. "It was the bay. Right by the Tourist Office. There—there's nothing left. There's just… there's nothing left, just rubble and fire, a great big hole in the ground…my God. There's no way… if anyone was in there…Jack's the only person who could've survived that and even then...my God."

Abby sobbed into Gibbs shoulder while he held her tight. He didn't understand the significance of the Tourist Office but he could guess that somewhere around there was where this 'Hub' of theirs was supposed to be.

Tim broke out of his stupor and turned to the computer; a moment later he had the newsfeed from Cardiff up on the monitor, although he kept the volume muted. He didn't need to hear what was being said to feel sick to his stomach, the video was enough. Mickey was right. There were no survivors, there couldn't be. He wasn't even sure Jack…

On the other end of the line, Nerys was sobbing… Tim picked up the phone and killed the speaker—Abby, her face still awash with tears, pulled away from Gibbs and yanked it out of his hands before he could say anything.

"You listen to me Mickey Smith," she said into the phone. "You find them. Do you hear me! They're _**not **_dead. I know they're not dead. So you just find them. You go there and you dig Jack out of that hole and you find the rest of our team!" She flipped the phone shut without waiting for a reply.

"Abby…" Tim reached out for her, but she pulled away. "Abbs," his tone was soft.

"No. They're _not _dead, Timothy," she told him in a defiant tone. "I would know if they were dead." Her gaze fell the image on the computer screen and she started crying again. "Oh God. Janet! She was… and Myfanwy!" she bawled, this time collapsing into Tim's arms. "What if she was in there—"

"I'm sure Myfanwy got out," he soothed her. "Janet too. You'll see. You'll be spoiling that silly…bird… again before you know it. Come on," he lifted her chin so he could dry off her cheeks, rubbing away her tears gingerly with his thumbs. "Mickey will find Jack and together they'll find the rest of the team. Abbs, you know they will. In the meantime we need to work on this thing with the kids. We need to figure out what's causing it because the rest of the team has their hands full. Ok?"

Still sniffling, Abby nodded and straightened herself. She accepted the tissue Gibbs offered. "How did anybody even get a bomb into the Hub, anyway?"

"We don't know it was aimed at us," Tim told her. "It could be anything. Abbs—_Abby_," he said her name more sharply. "You have to focus."

She was clutching his mobile. "First I have to call Sam and make sure he's all right. He should be helping Mickey find Jack."

"Abbs," he took the phone gently from her hands. "Let Mickey handle it."

"We can't just sit here doing nothing!"

"You're right," he said, his tone full of both patience and sympathy. "We can't do nothing." He was unaware of the way Gibbs was watching them, of the look of approval on the older man's face at the way he was handling the situation, especially Abby. "We have to work on this so we have something to report when Jack comes back. You know he's going to want to know what we've been doing while he was gone." Assuming he was coming back… he'd seen Jack come back, but not…not from something like this.

Abby nodded into his hands. "But first I'm going to call Bobby. They might still be in New Jersey," she insisted when he gave her _that _look, the one that begged her to concentrate on something else.

"All right," he relented anyway, handing her back the phone. "Call Bobby. Then we'll get to work." He cast half a glance at Gibbs, but if he thought anything of the more unusual things he'd heard, he was doing a good job of keeping it to himself.

…………………………………………………….

Crouching in the smoky darkness, sheltered by rubble, Ianto heard the woman speaking into the phone. Target one had been eliminated.

Jack. Jack had been… _he was target one._ He was dead… but he would come back. He always came back.

_Targets two, three and four had escaped._

Ianto prayed that meant Gwen was all right. But she had to be. She had to be on her way home, to Rhys, RJ.

"We don't know where the fifth target is," he heard the woman saying.

Target five…Mickey. He was still with Nerys. How long would it be, the Welshman wondered, before they started searching the homes of their families? How far would they go? Would they look for him at his Mam's? Gavin's? Cade's? What the Hell would Cade do when armed men came storming into his house…? The bloody idiot would probably get himself shot… for once, the thought of something like that happening to Cade didn't make him feel any better.

The woman was speaking again:

"The teams deployed to the United States should be landing in just a few hours. We _will_ round them up."

Ianto closed his eyes. The United States. They knew where the rest of them were.

He hugged Jack's wrist strap tight against his chest, conjuring an image of the older man up in his mind. Those blue eyes he loved so much…that smile… strong arms holding him tight. That scent. _Fifty first century pheromones at their best… _"I'll be back for you, Jack," he whispered into the darkness. "Just as soon as I can, I'll be back for you, I promise. I won't leave you alone in the dark."

As soon as the coast was clear, he skittered silently into the night.

…………………………………………………………..

"You're not coming with me!" Mickey snapped at Ianto's sister, just barely keeping himself from yelling at her, and that was only because he was sure Remy was still awake. He'd packed a bag with a change of clothes and some first aid supplies from the medicine cabinet. His laptop was already tucked up in its heavily padded travelling case. His gun and boot knife. In his jeep, he had his field kit and a stun gun. A shovel. He supposed that made him as ready as he was going to be.

Except that Nerys was standing there, her eyes red-rimmed, her cheeks tear stained. Only instead of continuing to cry, she was glaring. Angry. Determined. Defiant. Sometimes he wondered if she and Ianto were really related at all, they didn't act at all alike half the time, or at least it didn't seem it at the moment with her seething at him like she was.

"You're not leaving me here in the bloody dark while you go swanning off into God knows what!" she informed him.

"Do you have any idea what's going on out there?" he gestured wildly towards the window, the night beyond.

"No. Do you?"

He swore. "No. Look," he tried to compose himself, to sound rational. "I know you want to find out what happened to them as much as I do, but until we know what's really going on, you need to stay here, where it's safe."

"What make _here _any safer than anywhere else?" she wanted to know. "I've been around a bit, you know? Those Daleks? I even met the pet pterodactyl. I know what's out there. You're not shutting me out, not when my baby brother—" her words caught in her throat.

"Nerys, please," he wrapped his arms lightly around her shoulders. "Stay with Remy and your mother…"

"No," she pulled away, swiping the back of her hand across her tear stained face and forcing a brave expression. "I'm coming with you and that's final. I swear, if you try to stop me, I'll just follow you."

Mickey took back what he'd just thought about her and Ianto not being alike. They were both as stubborn as bloody mules! "All right, fine. But so help me, if anything happens to you…Ianto will kill me."

"Is that all you're worried about then, my brother killing you?"

"No. No, that's not all I'm worried about," he pressed a soft kiss to her forehead. "Now go change shoes."

"What's wrong with these?" she held up her foot; she was wearing a pair of canvas slip-ons.

He rolled his eyes. "Get those boots we bought to go camping in—and please tell me you broke them in like I said. And bring a jacket," he added as she turned towards her wardrobe.

"It's not cold out."

"Just do it. And hurry up, yeah?"

"All right, all right," she paused just long enough to give him a soft kiss. "I'll just be a second, promise.".

_Your brother is going to kill me… _he mused sullenly.

While he waited for her to get herself together, Mickey went to find Nerys' mother. She was in the kitchen drinking a cup of orange jasmine tea; she looked exhausted, both physically and mentally. Emotionally.

"You and Remy should get out of the city," he told her. "Go to Cade's or something."

"What makes you suggest a thing like that? It's nearly eleven o'clock at night."

"I just think… I think it'll be safer than here, that's all. You know, with everything going on out there? Better yet if you have someone you can go to who's not related, a friend or something. No big deal, just…just get out of here for a while."

She regarded him a long moment. "Who do you work for?" she wanted to know.

He blinked, caught off guard by the question, the calmness of her tone.

"Mickey, I know you don't work for the Tourist Board."

"Of course I do work for the Tourist Board," he forced a smile. "I'm just worried about you, that's all."

"I figured it out a long time ago," she told him, gazing down into her cup. "Nerys doesn't know I know—and I'd like to keep it that way. I just want to know where Ianto is. I want to know he's all right. That he's…" she choked back a sob, covering her mouth with her hand. She wanted to know that he was still alive.

"The truth is I don't know if he's all right," he said, laying a hand gently on her arm. "But if he's alive, I'll find him, I promise. I'll bring him home."

She looked up at him, "And Jack?"

"Ah, don't worry about him," he grinned. "He's a hard man to get rid of."

…………………………………………………………….

"Don't tell me where you're going," Ianto said when Gwen took the receiver from Rhys. He was standing in a phone booth, keeping a watchful eye on his surroundings. So far it didn't look as if anyone had trailed him from the pier. "Just tell me you're all right."

"Yeah, yeah, we're ok," she surveyed her own surroundings; Rhys was scrambling madly looking for the stupid car keys because he could never put them up in the same place twice. Sam was packing a bag for them—he'd been staying with them for a bit, sleeping on the sofa and helping out with the baby…well, not so much a baby any more, she thought as she glanced over to her son, now nearly nine months old. She thought about all those other mothers out there, the other fathers, the nightmare this must be for them. "Ianto, it's the government," she told him. "I don't know which branch or why or what they want—"

Rhys had finally found the car keys, he held them up triumphantly.

"It doesn't matter," Ianto told her over the phone. "All that matters is that we're not dead yet."

"Yeah. Yeah, right," she agreed trying to sound brave. Trying to _be_ brave. "I have to go, but…how do I find you?"

He paused, glanced around the street; no one seemed to be paying any mind to one scuffed up, bruised man using a public telephone in the middle of the night. "I'll find you after I've found Jack."

"Ianto, how?" How would he find him, how would he find her?

"I don't know. But I will. I promise."

"Take care of yourself, Ianto."

"You too. I'll see you soon."

"Yeah. See you soon."

He hung up and headed back towards the Bay. Mickey had to have seen the news by now, he had to be on his way, they just had to find each other.

……………………………………………………………………………..

After getting Sam and RJ settled safely, she hoped, at her parent's house, Gwen told Rhys that she was going to London. She'd borrowed some cash from her father; he didn't have much on him, but she would take what she could get. Chances were their accounts were frozen by then.

Her parents were worried—scared sick, more like it. She couldn't tell them what was going on, why she looked like she'd been dragged through Hell, why she'd showed up at their place at midnight, or even why she couldn't tell them anything. All she could do was pray her family would be safe while she did her job.

"London?" Rhys asked; they were alone in the kitchen. Gwen's Mam had insisted she take a few things from the cupboard. "Why London? If someone is trying to kill you…"

"London is where they make the decisions," she told him. "So London is where I need to go to figure out what's really going on," she shouldered her bag.

"You don't really think you're going without me, do you?" he asked in an incredulous tone.

"Rhys, I can't ask you to come with me, it's too dangerous."

He flashed one of his big goofy grins, the kind that always made her smile too. "So don't ask."

"God, I love you," she leant up; he met her kiss half way. "Come on then, we'd better get moving—assuming you haven't lost the car keys again," she teased.

He laughed and jingled them in front of her nose. "Right here, thank you very much." Then, in a more serious tone, as they headed towards the front door, "do you really think they'll be safe here?" he asked.

"Mam and Tad'll look after RJ—and Sam—he's—yeah, they'll fine," she hoped she wasn't lying.

"I figured out a while ago he wasn't human, Gwen. I'm ok with that. I mean…at least he's not as batty as that Doctor fellow," he grinned.

She smiled back. She'd figured he knew about Sam, but he hadn't asked, he'd just taken it in stride. He took so much in stride, it really didn't seem fair… he was such a good man, a good husband. Good father. She reached for her midsection. Jack was going to kill her when he got back. _Please come back to us..._

Her gaze moved towards the blackened sky overhead, all those stars. Alien worlds. They weren't all bad. There were aliens like Sam, like the Doctor. Jack had told her once that he always showed up when the world was in danger. She wondered if he was here now, somewhere, trying to put things right…

Twenty minutes later, well away from her parents' house, Gwen had Rhys pull over.

"What're you doing?" he asked when she got out.

"We can't go any further in that. It has GPS. They can track us."

He glanced back towards the direction they'd come; it had never occurred to him… what if…. "RJ…" he looked around nervously, but there was no sign of pursuit, at least not yet.

"He'll be all right," she assured him in a tone that was filled with more confidence than she really felt. "Sam will look after him."

"What? Sam? I thought your parents—?" she'd said her parents would look after Sam and RJ.

"Sam's a very clever young man. If anything happens, he'll get RJ and my parents out of the house and find somewhere safe for them to sit tight and wait this out. Now come on. Let's go."


	14. Day Two, Part Three

**A/N:**

Just a quick point: by and large, if I haven't re-written it, it happened just exactly the way RTD and company presented it to us in CoE.

And again, thank you SO much for all the reviews, for all the alerts/faves. They really, really make my day.

Sorry this one didn't get up sooner, yesterday was a bit of a day ;-)

* * *

**Chapter Fourteen:  
****Day Two, Part Three**

_"Drop the question of what tomorrow may bring,  
and count as profit every day that fate allows you."_

Horace

* * *

A tired looking woman glanced up when she realized there was someone standing in front of the reception desk and the someone wasn't going away. Like most people at the Princeton Plainsboro Teaching Hospital—most of the people around the world—she was still trying to digest the meaning of the new message:

_We are coming __**back.**_

She blinked to clear her thoughts and tried to smile, but it was a futile effort. "Can I help you?" she asked anyway of the curvy dark skinned woman wearing snug blue jeans and brown leather coat.

"I hope so. Look…I…" Martha hesitated. She wanted to muster up some words of courage, of hope, like she had when she'd travelled the world over, during the year that never happened, not for most people away. She wanted to tell this woman, to tell the whole world, that it would be all right, that everything possible was being done to fix this and that they _would_ fix it. But the she didn't believe that herself. "I'm sorry. I know…that is… I'm looking for Bobby Chase—Dr Robert Chase?" she amended. "He's here visiting—"

"I might be able to help you," said another woman, cutting her off, though it didn't appear to be an intentional act of rudeness. She had dark hair and dark circles under her eyes. She was probably a well dressed woman most days, but not today. Today she just looked tired. It was a look Martha knew too well. Everywhere she went it was the same, people were mentally and emotionally tapped out.

"I'm Lisa Cuddy, Dean of Medicine for Princeton Plainsboro," the woman extended her hand.

"Martha Jones Milligan," she accepted. "_Dr_ Martha Jones Milligan." Sometimes people received her better when she mentioned that she was a doctor.

"And you are…?"

"I'm not here officially," she explained. "But I am with UNIT, and if there's anything I can do to help…"

"You could tell us what's going on," Cuddy suggested hopefully, steering the woman away from reception. She didn't look old enough to be much of a doctor or anyone of any special importance with the United Intelligence Taskforce, either—whoever they were. She still didn't know, not with any certainty at any rate. She'd dealt with them after the Atmos incident. They hadn't been much help then. They weren't much help now.

"I wish I could tell you what's going on, I really do, but the truth is we don't know," Martha said in a tone the other seemed to believe. The real truth was that _she_ didn't know, she'd been shut out. That's why she needed to talk to Jack, why needed to see Bobby. "But I promise you, as soon as I know anything, I'll tell you."

Cuddy gave over a wan smile. She'd been heard the same line by everyone she'd talked to in the last twenty four hours, from the CDC all the way up to the World Health Organization. "Chase is with Dr House and his team… I'll show you the way," she offered, her tone nothing but kind.

"Thanks. Do you have kids?" she asked after a moment.

Cuddy gave her a startled look…then she smiled. Under the circumstances, it wasn't an unusual question. "A little girl. Not even two."

Martha just nodded. Only school aged children seemed to have been affected. But how could she express to one person how happy she was that her life wasn't being torn apart when so many other people's lives were? Lisa Cuddy must have nieces, nephews, neighbours, friends... no one had been left untouched by the events of the past thirty six hours.

"Do you? Have children?" Cuddy returned the question.

She shook her head. "Too busy…my husband wants them, but my life…my life isn't really…no, no kids. Maybe someday," she flashed another forced smile.

Her last conversation with Tom had ended in a huge fight over him wanting her to move back to London so they could be together, start thinking about a family. _'It's like being married to a stranger, Martha! You give me what, every other weekend? Unless there's some crisis you can't tear yourself away from!'… 'What's the point of saving the world if you don't have a life of your own to come home to when it's all done?'… _They hadn't spoken since.

She and Dr Cuddy got as far as the elevator when when she noticed a familiar tall, lanky blond haired man leaning up against a wall near the stairwell, his back to them, talking on his mobile.

Cuddy saw him too and motioned towards him. "Looks like we found him," she managed another smile. Smiles were becoming exceedingly difficult to come by.

"Thank you, Dr Cuddy," Martha said to her, before heading over; she gave the older woman a brief glance over her shoulder, silently promising that she _would _figure this out, she would fix it. If she could travel the whole world to stop the Master, with little more than a creative story, a single word, than she could stop this too.

Bobby was just hanging up his phone when she got close enough to announce herself. "Surprise…" her grin faded the instant he turned and faced her. He looked like he'd just been gutted. "Bobby, what's wrong?"

"Martha…I…" his brows knit together. "What are you doing here?"

"Long story. Was that Jack? I've been trying to reach him for the last half an hour…whatis it, what's wrong?_" _she asked again. He'd gone ashen at the mention of the Captain's name.

"That was Abby. Something happened in Cardiff. I—it's Jack. Ianto. The Hub—I have to tell Wen—"

"Bobby!" Martha grabbed him by the sleeve, refusing to let him go until he'd explained himself in a way that made some sense. "What happened in Cardiff? Is Jack all right?"

"I don't know," he ran his hands through his hair. "There was an explosion in Cardiff Bay, right…right where the Hub…where it used to be."

Her hands went to her mouth, it couldn't be a coincidence. The way she was being kept out of everything… "Oh God, no_. __**No.**_ Please, tell me they got out all right. _Tell me_ they're all right…"

"I don't know. Mickey was at Ianto's sister's. He's gone to see if there's…" he shook his head, unable to complete the thought. "I need to find Wen."

"I'm coming with you."

…………………………………………………………..

Nerys gaped as the scene before her as they approached the pier. Smoke. Emergency vehicles. Police tape. Black clad soldiers…big guns. Debris. Rubble. Fire. She felt sick to her stomach. No one could have survived that.

Mickey steadied her with a hand to her elbow; he said he didn't want to get too close, not until he knew what had happened. They'd gotten a call as they were pulling out of her Mam's driveway. She didn't understand it—she understood the words, just not what it all meant. It was like the whole world had gone mad.

The call was Gwen's friend, Andy, saying he was probably making a career ending mistake, but something was wrong, really wrong, people were saying that Gwen, Jack, Ianto…Sara…even Mickey, that _they_ were responsible for the bomb. Andy couldn't reach anyone else, he didn't know if they were alive or dead. He'd only seen Gwen, briefly, as she shot the tires out of the van he'd been in some woman from the anti-terrorist unit.

But Gwen wasn't a terrorist, Andy knew that. He knew that Jack wasn't either, or Ianto, or Sara, or any of them… although sometimes he wondered about that girl Abby. She frightened him.

"_I know you lot get up to some strange doings, but you wouldn't blow up the quay…would you?"_

Armed with that information, Mickey was being especially careful. He'd disabled the GPS in his jeep and made her turn off her mobile phone; he turned off his. He'd parked the jeep some ways away from the pier. Nerys was glad he'd made her wear the hiking boots.

She couldn't help the gut-wrenching nausea that continued washed over her anew when the wind coming in off the bay brought with it the stench of burning debris. She almost wished she'd stayed in the jeep like he wanted her too, but she hadn't come all this way to sit on the sidelines and guard his laptop. Instead she was walking with him, with it slung over her shoulder.

"My God," she finally found words to express some small measure horror she felt. How many times had she and Remy met Ianto for lunch right…right _there_… only there wasn't anything there anymore, just burning wood and charred metal. "What happened here?"

Mickey pulled something out of his bag.

"What is that?" she asked of the weird device; she'd never seen anything like it before.

"I'm looking for anything hinky," he answered her, unaware that he'd picked up on Abby's favourite word to describe things gone awry.

"What do you mean, 'hinky'?"

"Alien energy signatures, Rift activity…anything."

"And?"

He looked frustrated. "Nothing. It was a bomb, just like they said on the news."

"So…it really was terrorists?"

"I dunno. Hang on—here, hold this," he handed over the energy detector and pulled something much smaller out of the big black satchel he always carried over his shoulder.

He slipped an ear bud into his left ear; there wasn't a wire connecting it to the black ipod sized device he was holding. She didn't know what it was, but like the energy detector, it wasn't like anything she'd ever seen. Other than introducing her to the pterodactyl, Ianto had made a point to shelter her from his job, to not involve her in anything or show her anything, not to even _talk _about anything, except to tell her that everything was fine, she shouldn't worry about aliens, she should just live her life as normally as possible. She suspected that that more than anything was why he didn't 'approve' of her dating one of his co-workers.

But Mickey was kind. Funny. He was sweet. Honest. Intelligent (always a bonus). She liked him. And he adored Remy. As far as she could tell, it was mutual all the way around, although they'd only been going out for a couple of months.

She had tried to see other blokes. Several of her friends had set her up on blind dates, but somehow after being around Ianto and Jack, watching them, the way they were with each other, especially when they didn't think anyone was paying them any mind… "So what is that thing?" she asked Mickey, not wanting to think about her brother and his husband, about them being down there, buried under all that mess.

"I want to hear what they're saying," he explained, nodding towards the rescue workers, the black clad anti-terrorist troops who appeared to be sifting through the debris.

"So that's what, then, some sort of alien listening device?" she asked flippantly.

"Something like that, yeah," he answered, having seemed to have missed her tone. "They're looking for survivors. So far they haven't found anything, though."

"Do you really think…?" was there anyone left _to _find? Ianto… Jack… Sara… Andy had only seen Gwen. What if the others…

Mickey didn't miss her tone that time. Gingerly, he wrapped his arms around her shoulders. "Shhhh," he soothed. "We don't know who was here when it happened, Ner. For all we know, no one was even in the Hub. Come on," he tugged her further away from the scene. He didn't want anyone noticing them—and he didn't think she could handle being so close any longer.

Nerys followed behind him for a few moments, occasionally looking back over her shoulder, trying to imagine how anyone could have survived the explosion that had created all that wreckage. "What are we supposed to do?" she asked at length.

"We wait," he said, looking around for a spot they could use to hunker down.

"For what?"

"For Jack."

"I don't understand."

He turned to face her again. "Look, one of two things is going to happen. Either he wasn't in there and he heard about it, he's on his way, or he was in there."

"But…if he was in there when…" she swallowed back the words. If he was inside when the bomb went off, he was dead.

"He's not dead. Trust me. Now come on."

………………………………………………………

Ianto found a vantage point that gave him a decent view of the blast site while still offering adequate cover and settled in to wait. Eventually he'd see Mickey or Mickey would find him—or the soldiers would find Jack. Either way, waiting was the only thing he could do.

The eastern sky began to lighten…the sun was coming up.

It reminded him of the sunrise he and Jack had shared on the top of the Millennium Centre the day after Henry… he closed his eyes, rubbing his fingers across his partner's ring on his hand.

_I want to take walks with you in the park and eat breakfast in bed with you…I want to feed you pineapple off of every inch of my body… _the memory of Jack's words brought a fresh stab of pain, a fresh twisting in his gut.

They'd taken those walks in the park, taken Jason to a rugby match, a football game. Jack had fed him pineapple… his body made the most beautiful plate Ianto had ever seen…he found himself smiling his tears. He wiped his face dry.

He would find Jack and together they'd track down the rest of the team. They'd figure out what was going on, who had done this to them and why, what connection it had to what was happening with the kids. It had to be connected. It was too much of a coincidence that they'd been working on that when somebody tried to blow them up…_but who would want us out of the way? _And who had the resources to pull it off?

A sound behind him drew him out of his thoughts. Footsteps…heavy boots... cold fear settled itself in his chest. Ianto took a breath to steady himself, had a quick glance at the ground around him…the only weapon that came to hand was a brick. He picked it up and slid deeper into the shelter of the ledge, hoping to at least get the jump on whoever had found him.

"I'm telling you, I saw someone up here," said a voice…female…it sounded like…but it couldn't be.

Only a moment later, he saw that it was. Nerys. But…how…?

Then he saw the man coming up behind her and for half an second, his hand curled tighter around the brick.

Then he dropped it.

He came out of his hiding spot. Before he could say anything to Mickey, however, Nerys was hugging him, seeming to be trying very hard not to cry. He held her, promising that he was all right. He glared at Mickey. He _would _kill him…

"I got a call from Andy, Gwen's old partner," Mickey was saying. "He said they're sayin' _we_ did this."

Ianto kissed his sister's forehead and eased her away from him so he could talk. "I spoke to Gwen. She said one of them said they worked for the government, but she didn't know which branch or why they were targeting us."

"What about Sara?" Mickey queried.

"She's all right, I saw her after the explosion."

"Jack?" he asked.

The Welshman shook his head. "He…he was trapped inside."

Nerys looked up at him, fresh tears threatening to spill. "Oh, Ianto…Sweetheart…"

"What are you doing here, Nerys?" he cut her off, anger evident in his tone.

"You didn't expect me to just sit back and wait, did you? They said a bomb went off down here!"

"Which makes this the last place you should be!"

"Oi, guys," Mickey cut off their argument, motioning them towards the ledge of the building. "They've found something!"

………………………………………………………

"Director?" Leon Vance's secretary caught him as he was stepping out of his office for lunch.

He gave an irate look, but her expression told him it wasn't something trivial.

"Sir, you might want to take a look at the fax that just came through for you. It's about former Special Agent Timothy McGee and Abigail Scuito."

His frown deepened, but he took the paper from her hand and read it. Then he read it again. He nodded. "Get an armed detail down to the lab. And get this Johnson on the phone. Tell her, her people can come and pick McGee and Scuito up here at their leisure."

He didn't know if they were terrorists or not (deep down, he rather doubted it), but if the British government wanted them, they could have them.


	15. Day Two, Part Four

**A/N**

Vance has his own secretary/PA. Cynthia would never have shown him that fax, she would have conveniently misplaced it, probably right into Gibbs' or McGee's hands. ;-) (I'm pretty sure we haven't seen much of Cynthia in the current season, although I usually catch NCIS in reruns, the timing is just better for my schedule…. So I don't know if Vance has done anything to redeem himself, but it's pretty obvious what *I* think of the man… )

And by request, a Welsh Werewolf in New Jersey….

* * *

**Chapter Fifteen:  
Day Two, Part Four**

"_The world is not dangerous because of those who do harm  
but because of those who look at it without doing anything"  
_

Albert Einstein

* * *

Standing next to her brother, Nerys watched in sickened horror as the rescue worker pulled an arm out from the rubble. It was…it was _**just **_an arm. It had been ripped off at the shoulder, just… her gut churned violently. It was a man's arm… Caucasian…

"That's him," Ianto confirmed her suspicion. Her fear.

She closed her eyes, forcing back her own tears, determined to be strong for him. "I'm so sorry, Yan," she laid her hand on his back, expecting him to turn into her, to cry. He loved Jack so much…she'd never seen anybody who loved someone so much.

But he didn't cry. He didn't move. He didn't respond to her touch or her voice. He just stood there, watching, hardly seeming to be able to breathe while they moved the arm over to a waiting body bag.

"Ianto, sweetheart…" she tried to get him to turn, to face her. He shouldn't be watching this. But he refused to be goaded into looking away.

"Leave him," Mickey finally advised in a soft tone; he took her by the hand and tugged her over to him.

Nerys allowed herself to be drawn into the warmth of his arms. Maybe he was right, maybe Ianto needed to see this, maybe it was the only way he'd be able to convince himself that Jack was really gone. Maybe he wasn't the only one who needed convincing, she realized, because she was still watching, too.

A few moments later, they found something else…she wasn't e sure what it was, just a hunk of flesh. They placed it in the body bag next Jack's arm……it was…her gorge rose. It was a head, part of a shoulder, maybe. It was Jack's…a cold gust of wind brought the scent of charred flesh up to the rooftop…

Mickey knelt down next to her, rubbing her back while she threw up a few feet away from the ledge of the building where Ianto still stood, unmoving. Unable to move, perhaps.

"I'm sorry," she muttered in between dry heaves after there was nothing left to come up.

"Don't worry about it," he told her. "It's nothing to be ashamed of, ok?"

"Yeah, yeah ok. Thanks." She looked up at her brother; he'd come away from the ledge and was watching her.

"Will you please go home, now?" he asked in a plaintive tone.

"No." She slumped back against Mickey, wiping the last of the vomit away from her chin with the back of her hand.

"_Nerys—"_

"I'm _not_ leaving you!"

"Nerys, he's right, you shouldn't be here," Mickey tried to tell her. He shut up quickly when the _both _glared at him.

"What next?" she asked, her glower shifting back to her brother.

Ianto rubbed his hands over his face. Arguing with Nerys would only waste time they didn't have. He had no idea how long it would take Jack's body to regenerate or how quickly he would come back once it started to…what that was going to be like… he closed his eyes a moment, trying not to think about it. "I got the license plate number of the truck they put him in," he said, keeping his tone brisk. Flat. Anything to keep mask of professionalism in place. If it cracked and fell, he might crack with it. He wasn't prepared to do that in front of his sister. He turned to Mickey. "We need to track it, find out where they've taken him."

"How do you do that?" Nerys wanted to know.

"Laptop," Mickey answered the question, giving the case a pat.

"What? How?"

"With the right program you can do just about anything," Ianto told her, his tone still light.

"And you've got that kind of program?"

Her boyfriend grinned, "'Course I do." He turned to the Welshman. "We need to find someplace we can work. My jeep's parked about a mile from here."

Ianto gave him a look.

"I'm not an idiot, I disabled the GPS," he said in an incredulous tone. He offered Nerys his hand at the same time; she accepted.

"Sorry," the other man apologized. He should have known better.

They began making their way back, still mindful of the soldiers and police. Ianto was urging them to a brisk pace.

"Why are you in such a hurry to follow after them?" Nerys asked him at length; she was definitely glad she'd worn the hiking boots. "There's nothing left…" An arm. A hunk of charred, bloodied flesh that used to be… Her gut churned and heaved, but she managed not to wind up on all fours again. "Ianto, _**answer**__ me_. Why?"

He stopped a moment, but hardly hesitated before telling her the truth. "Because he needs me. Because I promised him I will always be there when he comes back." His voice was thick with all of the emotions he couldn't keep bottled up any longer, no matter how hard he tried.

"Comes back from what? Ianto, you saw, there's nothing left, just…just pieces! He's _**dead,**_ and I am so sorry, but he's _gone. _He's dead," she repeated when he showed no signs of having heard her the first time.

"Nerys…" Mickey tried. The other cut him off.

"Yeah. He is. But with him it's only a temporary condition."

She looked from her brother to her boyfriend and back again. "What do you mean, 'a temporary condition'? Nobody comes back from the dead."

Neither answered. She was left to follow behind them, aware of the tension that was mounting between the two men. It continued until they finally got to Mickey's jeep and he asked for his laptop.

She handed it over. "Would one of you please say something? I know you get into some pretty weird shit, but—"

"Jack can't die, Nerys," Mickey finally told her. He'd been waiting for Ianto to explain, but he wasn't even looking at her… at either of them.

"What do you mean, he can't die?" she asked. "Everybody dies!"

"Not Jack," he said, his gaze fixed on the laptop as Mickey set it up.

"Ifan—"

He turned to her, his face clouded over and dark. "As of his last birthday, Jack was two thousand and eighty seven years old—give or take a decade." His tone was cold. Harsh. "He spent one thousand nine hundred and twenty four of those years buried _under _Cardiff. Alive. He was buried _**alive**_ by the same psychopath who tried to blow the city up last year. No matter what anybody does to him, Jack will never, _ever _die. I don't know how or why, at least not in anyway that I can explain, I just know it's true. I have seen him get killed and come back so many times—and every time he does it, I die a little bit inside too, because I am _**so**_ afraid that this is it, this is the time he won't come back to me, even though he promised he would." He wiped the moisture from his cheeks. "Right now that promise is _all _I have to hang onto. So we are going to track that vehicle and we are going to get him back. Whatever it takes, we're going to get him back." He turned to Mickey. "How much longer?"

"This could take a while. We'd probably better find somewhere to hole up while the program runs."

Ianto just nodded and slid into the backseat while Nerys got in up front with Mickey. "Is he human?" she asked her brother.

"Yes. He's human. Would it matter if he wasn't?"

…………………………………………………………….

"Who did you say you worked for?" Amber Wilson eyed the men standing on her front porch with suspicion. There were four of them; they had arrived in one of two big black SUV's that were sitting in her driveway. There were four more men sitting in the second vehicle. They were asking about Bobby and Wendy.

"I didn't," the man replied to her question; he had a British accent. He hadn't given his name either. "If you would allow us to come inside for a moment, I can assure you this is a matter of utmost—"

"I'm sorry," she cut him off, "but in case they didn't mention it at customs, you're in the United States now. We have rules here. So unless you have a warrant…?" she gave him a speculative look.

He remained mute, grim looking.

"Have a nice night," Amber stepped back inside and locked the door behind her. She threw the deadbolt. She had the feeling it wouldn't help.

"Who was that?" James asked, coming down the stairs. He'd been upstairs talking to Bobby while he and Wendy packed. Their friend Martha was in the dining room looking over the packet of test results from the children they'd seen at the hospital. Lisa Cuddy was with her; she'd broken more rules than she cared to count in turning the test results over to Martha, but the other had insisted they would help them find an answer once they got back to the UK.

"Amber?" James prompted her when she didn't answer him right away.

She turned and stole a glance outside through the curtained window next to the door. The men had gone back to their vehicle, but it didn't look like they were going anywhere. "Call the police," she told her husband.

"What?"

"Just do it," she insisted, as she strode towards the dining room.

"What should I say?" he asked. She didn't answer.

"Martha," said Amber, "you might want to see this," she motioned her towards a window that faced the front of the house.

"What is it, what's going on?" Cuddy wanted to know.

Martha was already up and moving. She cursed under her breath when she saw the SUV's, the men gearing up. "Get Bobby and Wendy, we need to get out of here."

"The line's gone dead," Wilson joined them, holding the cordless phone in his hand. "I started to dial and then it just…died," he wore a perplexed expression.

"Try you cell phone," Amber suggested.

"Don't bother," said Martha. "They'll have jammed the signal by now." She was already gathering the paperwork back up, shoving it into her backpack.

"Who are those people?" Wilson asked; Amber was already half way up the stairs to get Bobby and Wendy.

"I don't know," Martha answered him honestly. "Probably some kind of special ops, maybe SAS—I really don't know. Look," she tried to explain, because he was clearly out of his depth, "somebody was able to get close enough to the man Bobby and Wendy work for to blow up his base. Believe me, that's a hard to do. It has to mean someone wants Torchwood out of the way, someone who has access to classified information." Someone who could get her shut out of the loop as well, probably because it was no secret that she and Jack were friends.

"But I thought Torchwood was some kind of government—" Cuddy stopped midsentence when Martha pulled a large black revolver out of her bag. She gave the younger woman an askance, horrified, look.

"Is that standard issue for UNIT medical personnel?" Amber inquired of her, rejoining them, Bobby and Wendy on her heels.

Martha flashed over a wry grin. "Where I work, you never know what you're going to run into." She handed a second weapon towards Bobby and Wendy.

"You," said Wendy.

"Are you sure?"

"I don't need it."

He nodded without arguing, but only because there wasn't time to argue, and took the gun from Martha's outstretched hand. "Extra clips?" he asked.

"Just one apiece."

"The British government doesn't have any authority here—" Cuddy had finally recovered from her shock enough to speak.

"I doubt those guys care," Bobby told her. Three against eight. Two guns. Three civilians. If it weren't for the three civilians, he would have felt a whole lot better about the odds. He pocketed the clip Martha handed him.

"Are you crazy?" Wilson looked from one to the other and back again, having pieced together what he was pretty sure they were planning. "This has to be some kind of mistake, just turn yourselves in—" it was suicide to even think…

"Not gonna happen," the Australian told him. He looked calm. All three of them did.

"Get these guys out the back," Wendy said to Bobby and Martha; she pulled off her sweater. "I'll cover you."

"Wendy…" he began.

"I can take a bullet, Bobby. You can't. Neither can they," she cast a significant look at Cuddy, Wilson and Amber. Beneath her skin, muscles had already begun to shift, change. She moved towards the living room.

"They'll probably split up to cover the back," Martha advised. She shouldered he backpack and pulled Cuddy up from her chair.

Bobby nodded… two against four…definitely better than two against eight. He looked in Martha's direction; she gave over a curt nod, probably thinking the same thing. Then again, she'd travelled with the Doctor. Given some of Jack's stories, the odds must look really good from where she was standing… wood splintered as the front door was forced in.

Cuddy looked into the living room…something impossible out of every child's worst night mare greeted the four heavily armed, armoured men who stormed in the door… one of them was already dead.

"Stay between us and keep your heads down!" Martha ordered over the gunfire that followed the scream from the other room. "I've got the lead," she added to Bobby, sounding to the others more like a well trained solider than a doctor. She led the way into the kitchen, just as the back door shattered open.

Someone had once told her that she didn't look like a killer. That woman had been wrong. One thing working with UNIT had taught her was that sometimes it was necessary to do the things she wouldn't normally do in order to survive. She always tried to balance that against everything she'd learnt from the Doctor, but at the moment, the best she could do was hope he would have forgiven her if he'd been. Without a word of warning, she opened fire on the intruders, dropping the first one in the door with a well placed bullet… behind them, the screaming stopped.

The next few moments were a blur. James glanced over his shoulder past Bobby and saw…something… his mind refused to wrap itself around it though because things like that didn't exist… then there was shoving, pushing… shouting… screaming. Red splatter. He watched Chase reload…shoot… the man he was shooting at fell to the ground, dead, and Bobby Chase pushed him out, over the body… bodies… The look in Chase's face was…calm. He wasn't fazed by any of it, the guns, the shooting, the bodies…the… _this_ is what he had left Princeton Plainsboro to become?

Then they were outside in the open air. Martha was clutching her arm, her expression pained. Amber was trying to look at the wound.

"I've had worse," the Englishwoman insisted.

Amber gave her a look; Martha relented and allowed herself to be examined.

"Bobby?" she called. There didn't seem to be any sign of pursuit.

A shape appeared in the backdoor… just a silhouette at first… slight of build…long dark hair… her hair was slick. Wet. Dripping. Her skin glistened slick and red in the afternoon sun.

Flashes of what he'd seen moments ago skittered through James Wilson's mind as she approached… fur… teeth… claws… her approach was slow. Deliberate. Like a predator stalking its prey…

He didn't see the look of fear in her eyes. He had no way of knowing what she was thinking, that she was petrified of the looks they were giving her, of the fear she smelled coming off of them. There was too much of it, too much blood, too much gun powder, for her to be able to isolate one scent from another, to know for sure whether or not Bobby going to turn from her, that he would at hate her. Fear her. He'd seen her kill before, but never a human. It didn't matter that he'd killed a couple of them too, he hadn't done it with his bare hands. He wasn't the monster…

Bobby was on his feet, then, walking towards her. She stopped.

He didn't. He kept walking until he was close enough to wipe the back of his hand across her cheek, cradle her head in his hands. "I love you," he told her what he knew she needed to hear. "Now please tell me you're all right."

A ghost of a smile flickered across her lips. "I'm ok."

He moved a hand down to her shoulders, her chest… the wounds were little more than angry red welts where bullets had pierced her skin.

"I'll be fine, Bobby. I heal fast." Bullets didn't stop her unless they were made of silver. "I only took a couple of hits and they all went straight through." Nothing vital had been hit or she wouldn't be calmly explaining to him that she was all right.

He nodded, accepting that she would be ok.

She looked past him, then. James Wilson and Lisa Cuddy were staring at her. Fear. Distain. Disbelief. Horror. All the things she feared the most.

She could see it in their eyes, they expected her to turn back into a monster and start ripping them apart like she'd done to those men, men who would have killed them without a second thought if she hadn't stopped them.

"Don't look at them," Bobby told her. "Wen… just me. Just look at me." He could see the tears glistening in her brown eyes. "Just me," he whispered.

She nodded, focused on his face, on the acceptance she found in his blue eyes. He loved her. He knew what she was and he loved her anyway. He had never called her a monster or been repulsed by her or afraid of her, not even the first time he'd seen her other skin.

Amber had finished her examination of Martha's arm and agreed that the injury was only superficial. The wound needed to be cleaned and dressed, but otherwise, she was all right. She turned her attention towards the rest of the group. She'd seen as much as James and Cuddy, but it had been easier to concentrate on something else than to look at what was standing in front her. Now that she didn't have a patient to worry about, however...

"Amber, they would have killed us," Martha said to her, desperate to make her understand. "Look at the way they came in. They weren't planning on leaving witnesses. James—Lisa—"

Amber pulled herself up to her feet and made her way to where Bobby and Wendy were standing. She regarded them both a long moment, her expression impossible to read.

James got to his feet too. His expression was easily readable. He was afraid…in denial. Trying to figure out what had really just happened.

"Are you sure you're all right?" Amber finally asked.

Wendy nodded.

The other returned it. "Thanks." She turned to Bobby. "I'm billing Torchwood for whatever damage those goons did to my house, Chase."

James gaped at his wife.

"After everything we've lived through the last few years…" she seemed to be having as hard a time with him not being able to believe what he'd just seen as he was having with her accepting it. She turned back to Wendy, "I'm just glad you're on our side."


	16. Day Two Part Five

****

Chapter Fifteen:  
Day Two, Part Five

"_Faith is the strength by which a shattered world shall emerge into the light."  
_Helen Keller

* * *

"What is this place?" Mickey asked, handing the binoculars from his field kit back over to Ianto. The three of them were laying prone on a small hill that over looked the facility.

"I dunno, I just know Jack's in there somewhere."

"What are they doing?" Nerys asked as the cement truck manoeuvred into place over what might have been a bunker or maybe a storage unit.

Ianto swallowed, but the cold lump in his throat wouldn't go down. They couldn't…no one could be that cruel…but a moment later the screams, impassioned pleas, rang out over the compound and he knew. He was too late.

"Yan…?"

"Jack." He answered without looking at her. It had taken them hours to track him, he must've come back. But what state had he been in when he had… "They can't kill him. So instead…" he felt sick. "So instead they're going to bury him alive inside a concrete block."

The colour drained from his sister's face. "How could someone do that? They _can't _be human."

"Sometimes human beings are the biggest monsters of them all," he told her.

…………………………………………………….

Abby hung up the phone. "All I got was voicemail," she told Tim, her frustration evident. She'd been trying to get in touch with Bobby and Wendy for the last fifteen minutes. She needed to know if they'd gotten copies of the tests the hospital had run on the kids over the last day and a half, and if they could fax them to her, because besides trying to figure out who had blown up the Hub, that was the only thing important enough to keep her from running back home and looking for her friends. Her team.

"I'm sure it's nothing," McGee lied. He'd had a bad feeling starting the first time neither Bobby nor Wendy picked up their phones. They were set to rendezvous at midnight, in D.C. "Maybe they're on the road already and can't get a signal," he suggested.

"Maybe," Gibbs said in all too casual a tone as the four armed guards came into the lab. He pushed himself off the table he'd been leaning against and put down his coffee cup. "Something we can do for you?" he asked in the same casual tone.

The first guard in ignored him. "Mr McGee, Ms Scuito, Director Vance would like to see you in his office. Now."

Abby and Tim exchanged glances.

The second guard turned to Gibbs. "I'll be happy to escort you out of the building, sir," she said in a calm tone. Gibbs didn't miss the flicker of nervousness in the young woman's eyes or the way the other two looked just a little twitchy, like they were expecting something.

"No problem," Gibbs smiled, without so much as a glance towards McGee; he hoped that whatever it was he did for this Torchwood Institute, he hadn't forgotten everything he'd learned from him…

Ten minutes and a brief scuffle later, Abby was pulling the guns from the hands of two of the unconscious men.

"Good thinking," Gibbs told her. He was doing much the same with one of the other two. "Now. Where did you learn moves like that?" he wanted to know. McGee was already checking the hallway to see if the coast was clear.

"Jack's a good teacher. And I am an excellent student," she smirked. She looked to Timmy. "What's the plan?"

"Stick to the schedule," he told her.

"Do you think…?"

"I think if anybody went after Martha, Bobby and Wendy, they're in for more than they bargained for," he told her honestly. "We're just going to have to find another way out of the country. I don't think trying to book a commercial flight is such a good idea any more."

"As soon as we get out of here, I'll make a few calls," Gibbs volunteered.

………………………………………………………………..

Cold air rushed into Jack's lungs and his eyes snapped open. Above his head….sky! Clear blue sky!

He took another deep breath, grateful for the air as he tried to get his bearings. The last thing he remembered was that woman… she was standing over him, she knew he couldn't die, but she'd figured out a way to keep him contained. Concrete filled his nose…his mouth…his lungs… pressing down… he suppressed a shudder… another sob.

Another memory.

A bomb going off in the Hub.

Ianto.

Ianto, Gwen, Sara… had any of them made it out? _Please…_

The sound of a vehicle approaching brought a fresh wave of panic. He crawled to his feet, still shaking.

…………………………………………………………….

Nerys felt her jaw go slack when she saw Jack standing there. Naked. She didn't see the expression on his face for what it was, she was too overwhelmed at seeing him alive and seemingly well to realize how terrified he was as he wondered _what next_…

Mickey pulled the jeep to a stop a few yards from him; Ianto slid out before it was even in park. Rhys and Gwen were just behind them, in a stolen pick up truck from the construction site above. Good thing for them there wasn't a vehicle on the market he couldn't hot wire.

"There's not a scratch on him," Nerys breathed, "not even a scar." The rational part of her mind wanted to believe that it had been some other person's arm she'd seen pulled from the wreckage.

"He has scars," Mickey told her in an uncharacteristically sombre tone. "Just not the kind what you can see."

She swallowed. He was right. How could Jack not have scars after…

"Jack," Ianto's voice was soft, steady. Calm. It didn't look as if the other completely believed what he was seeing—or that maybe he was afraid to believe the nightmare was really over, he was finally safe. "Jack?"

He swallowed. Took a step forward on shaky legs. He tore his gaze from that beautiful Welsh face just long enough to confirm the identities of the people behind him.

Gwen. Rhys. Mickey. _Nerys?_ What was Ianto's sister doing there?

"Sara?" he asked hopefully.

"She made it out of the Hub," Ianto told him. "I sent her to take your mother and the kids to Sarah Jane."

Sarah Jane. Sarah Jane Smith. "How long?" how long had he been gone.

"Since yesterday," he held out his hand. "I'm sorry, Jack. I'm sorry I wasn't here sooner. I'm sorry you had to go through that alone."

"You're here now," he said, accepting his hand…it felt _so_ good. So warm. So real. He didn't realize how hard, how desperately, he was clutching onto him.

He let himself be led back to the jeep, slid into the back seat. Ianto slid in next to him, wrapped his arms around him, held him… he felt so warm.

He wanted to close his eyes and lose himself to it, but he couldn't; if he closed his eyes it would be dark.

The memory of two thousand years buried alive… dirt and stone pressing down, suffocating… drowning in concrete, not knowing if anyone would ever find him … Ianto…Jason…Seren…they could be dead by the time he was found, dug out of that block of cement.

"I've got you," Ianto whispered, running fingers through his hair while Mickey drove them out of the construction site. Nerys was up front, Gwen and Rhys following behind in the truck. He leant down and pressed a soft kiss to the Jack's temple. "I'm here, Cariad. I will always be here."

He shuddered. He wouldn't always be there. Someday he would die. Someday he would be alone again.

"Shhh…Jack, I promise, I will _always_ be here for you."

"Don't make promises you can't keep," he managed. His voice was ragged. He'd died and come back so many times, he shouldn't feel so raw inside.

The younger man pulled him in tighter. "I'm not. You just watch me, Jack Harkness," he told him. _I will be there when the last star goes out. _

Jack smiled, just a little. Enveloped in the fierce warmth of an impossible promise, he stopped shaking. He let himself be held, just like all those nights Ianto had held him after…Gray…

"The Hub?" he whispered, his voice cracking under the strain of too many emotions. Gray was in the vaults. He'd changed the lockdown protocol, but had it been enough?

"I don't know," his Welshman seemed to understand the question—the real question. "I'm sorry."

He shook his head. There was nothing for him to be sorry for, nothing to be done. Later…maybe later… but right now…

Tenderly, Ianto stroked his cheek. Softly, he kissed him. He held him. He told him again that he loved him. Jack closed his eyes and allowed himself to rest, knowing that he was safe.

Ianto slid his wedding ring back onto his finger. "Forever, Jack," he whispered. "I'll love you forever."

…………………………………………………………..

Abby flung her arms around Bobby, nearly bowling him over when they finally arrived at the rendezvous point, a truck stop just outside D.C. Then she hugged Wendy and then Martha. _Then_ she introduced them to Leroy Jethro Gibbs. Then she finally let somebody else talk. She'd had six cups of coffee since they'd gotten there.

"Have you guys heard from anybody?" Bobby asked. He wasn't ready to believe that they were it, the only ones left except for Jack, but he knew they had to face the possibility.

"We'll hear from them," said Abby; her confidence seemed genuine.

"Well first we have to figure out a way to get back…" Martha began.

"I've got that covered," Gibbs told her with a sideways smile; it reminded her of one of Jack's half-grins. "As long as you don't mind flying 'coach.'"

"It can't be any worse than some of the places I've ended up," she answered without missing a beat.

* * *

**A/N:**

I had to tweak the vehicle situation a bit… six people do not fit in a jeep (at least not comfortably)! So just a bit of artistic license there.

And I am SO glad to be past this part, because watching Jack getting drown in cement like that, having him trapped in that block, after he'd come back like he had while they just WATCHED him scream (sick bastards)… it broke my heart. It was as hard to watch as anything they threw at us in Days Four and Day Five.


	17. Day Three Part One

**A/N:**

First off, a **HUGE Thank You** to Kitsa for so patiently helping me sort out this chapter.

And as always a **HUGE Thank You** to everyone who has been reviewing, as well as for all the fave/alert lists this has gone onto. I've also gotten a couple of "favourite author" listings lately – THANK YOU!! I can't tell you how much all of that makes my day.

* * *

**Chapter Seventeen:  
Day Three, Part One**

"_Every man has his own destiny: the only imperative is to follow it, to accept it, no matter where it leads him."_

Henry Miller

* * *

"I see we've got a new car outside, very nice, smart," Ianto said by way of hello when he returned to their make-shift home—the Hub 2, Rhys had dubbed it. Nerys was already up out of her chair, helping him with the armload of bags he'd come in with. "Thanks," he gave her a wan smile. It was impossible to tell how she was holding up.

Last night she'd seemed ok, but she they hadn't had a chance to really properly talk about everything she'd seen yesterday. He wasn't even sure how to. It was one thing to have told her that Jack was from another time, that he was a stranded traveller who'd lost his ride home and made the best of it—because he certainly wasn't going to try explaining how the Doctor had left him or why—but now she knew the real truth. Jack would never, ever die. He would. They all would. He would worry about it later.

He glanced over at both Jack and Mickey, wondering which one of them was responsible for the flashy convertible he'd passed as he came in. When it came to cars they had similar tastes, fast and sporty. God. What did that say about him and Nerys, he wondered; he'd read somewhere that there was some odd correlation between the types of cars men drove and the partners they chose…on second thought, he decided he didn't want to have thoughts like that about his sister.

"What is all this?" she asked she asked of the plastic sacks she'd helped him carry over to the work table.

"Where've you been?" Jack snapped before Ianto could answer her. "We thought you'd been arrested."

The Welshman flashed him a smile. "Just out buying essentials," he answered smoothly. "Technology's one thing, but let's not forget the creature comforts. Coffee for starters," he knew that would earn him a little gratitude and not just from Jack. He'd picked up some basic food items as well, other necessities.

They'd spent last night curled up in the semi-darkness, in the cold. None of them had slept well; his Captain hadn't slept at all. Ianto had just held him while he lay there, staring off into the shadows…

"_You should sleep," Jack told him at one point, well past midnight._

"_I'm ok," he snugged his arm tighter around the older man. Usually when the slept, it was Jack wrapped around him; tonight it was him wrapped around Jack._

_The older man turned in his arms then and found those blue grey eyes in the dark. He searched his face, trying desperately to memorize every detail. He never wanted to forget what he looked like. The sound of his voice, those beautiful Welsh vowels. What it felt like when they kissed. "We should figure out a way to get in touch with the rest of the team," he said, instead of giving voice to all of the things he was thinking. "Sara must be worried sick by now." Jason. Seren. His mother. Sarah Jane…they didn't always see eye to eye, but he counted her amongst his closest friends. He was just grateful very few people knew about that connection, his connection to the Doctor through his other former Companions. That was why he hadn't wanted to drag any more of this to her door than they had already in sending the kids to her—but he was glad Ianto had done it. No one could keep them safer right now than she could right now._

"_We'll find a way to get in touch with them in the morning," Ianto promised him. "The rest of the team, too. Right now we need to rest."_

"_Which is why you need to sleep."_

_He smiled. He leant in. He kissed him. He held Jack while he stared off into the shadows and didn't press him about what he was thinking… remembering… _

"….and last but not least," he couldn't help the grin of smug satisfaction that played across his face as he handed over the large paper wrapped bundle to Jack, having already doled out the rest of the things he'd picked up for the others, fresh clothes, toiletries. "Army surplus special, Sir," he explained.

"Oh, you're kidding me," the older man couldn't help the grin that mirrored his partner's. "God, I love you."

"So you keep saying," Ianto accepted the kiss he pressed to his lips. Returned it. Savoured it. No matter what Jack said, he was always so afraid that some day… _but not today._ Today they were together. "What next?" he asked, getting his own things sorted out so he could clean up and change.

"I was just about to run Clement MacDonald through the system again," Mickey answered first, "see if there've been any changes. There's got to be some reason this one man is sayin' the same thing all those kids are sayin'."

"We should run those names we got from Lois, too," Gwen advised. "Captain Andrew Stains…. what was it, Ellen Hunt? And Michael…?"

"Sanders," Rhys supplied.

"Yeah, right, Michael Sanders," she agreed, looking over at Jack. "Do those names mean anything to you? They were killed the same day you were."

He frowned, but the names didn't ring any bells. "No, nothing. Come on, let's get cleaned up and then we can get to work." He was more anxious than the others to get out of the clothes he was wearing.

"Just let me..." Mickey began. He didn't the chance to finish his sentence, Nerys was already hauling him to his feet.

"Come on, you heard the man," she cajoled. "You stink! It was like sleeping next to a bum last night."

"How was that any different from the other times you've slept next to him?" Jack wanted to know.

"_Oi!" _was the best comeback Mickey could muster as Nerys shoved him along in front of her, pointedly ignoring the look her brother was giving them. He'd been quite clear in the past about not wanting to hear about what she and Mickey did or didn't do.

"You shouldn't be so oversensitive, Ianto," Gwen said to him. "Your sister's a grown woman, you know."

He gave her a look. "How would _you_ feel if _you_ had a sister and she was dating Mickey Mouse there?" he asked, not quite having meant for that to come out so snarkily.

Gwen just laughed. "I suppose you've got a point. Find a corner to change, you!" she yelped in Jack's direction. He was already out of the t-shirt he'd borrowed off Rhys and looked like he was about to strip down the rest of the way right in front of her.

"I've never had any complaints about my body before," he was quick to quip back.

"Right then," Ianto pulled him off away from the area they'd designated as the main-stay of their new base of operations while Gwen giggled at him. Or maybe at them. He didn't care any more.

"We still have to make contact with Sara, the rest of the team," said Jack, as he shimmied out of the much-hated track pants.

"Already on it," his Welshman told him. "But…I haven't been able to get Bobby and Wendy or Tim and Abby," he tried very hard not to be bothered by that. Wendy could handle herself, she wouldn't let anything happen to Bobby and Tim and Abby were both resourceful. They were fine. They had to be fine.

"I'm sure they're all right," the other said, although it was obvious they shared the same fears. "What about Sara and the kids?" he prompted a return to the subject of making contact with people they could actually reach.

"I used a computer at a cyber café to send an email to Sarah Jane," he explained. "I set up an anonymous email address."

"Are you sure that was a good idea? If someone intercepts—"

"No one else but her will understand the message, Cariad."

"All right," he nodded. He should have trusted him. It looked like they were just going to have to wait for Sarah Jane to check her email and get back to them. Until she did, he was going to believe that Sara had made it to her and that his mother and the kids were fine, they together Sara and Sarah Jane were working on what was going on with the rest of the Earth's children.

He opened the package Ianto brought for him from the army surplus and smiled, stealing a brief glance over to his partner. He was naked. Usually the sight of his beautiful Welshman standing there in nothing but his birthday suit made him grin from ear to ear, but this time all it did was bring a stab of pain to his heart. There were cuts and bruises that hadn't been there two days ago, more than just that scrape on his cheek. He set aside the bundle of clothes and laid his hands gently on the younger man's hips, placing a soft kiss between his shoulder blades. "I'm sorry."

Ianto's smile, brought on by the strong, soft touch of the other's hands, faltered at the unexpected apology. "What for?"

"Not being able to give you a better life. A safer life."

He turned so he was facing the other man. "This is the life I chose, Cariad. I wouldn't want anything else."

"I just…I wish…"

"I love you. That's all that matters." He leant in, found his lips…Jack responded eagerly. He deepened the kiss as that intoxicating scent of the older man's rose off his skin…he pressed his body closer, arms wrapped around him, fingers digging into his back. "Think the others'll notice if we take a few extra minutes to get dressed?" he whispered between heated, almost needy kisses.

"The world could be ending and you want to…?"

"The world is always ending, Jack. And I have missed that coat," he added with a mischievous smile.

Jack returned it. "I think we could get away with twenty minutes…"

"Thirty."

His grin broadened. "Thirty minutes it is."

A moment later, however, they were interrupted by Gwen calling for them. "Are you two decent yet?" she queried into the dark corner that seemed to have swallowed them up whole.

"Never!" the Captain yelled back while his partner grumbled under his breath about bloody rotten timing.

Jack silenced his complaints by kissing him one last time before hollering past him to let Gwen and the others know they'd just be another second. Ianto had already started getting dressed. Since he dressed faster than the younger man (he always dressed faster), he turned and helped him with his tie, tying the knot just right, snugging it into place, smoothing the shoulders his shirt when he was done. He looked perfect. Handsome. "Definitely love the suit," he teased…well, it was true, he did love the suit… but then in a much more serious tone, "I was afraid I'd never see you again," he admitted softly.

"You can't get rid of me that easily. Now come on. Let's go save the world so we can get back to what we started before Gwen interrupted us."

He nodded in agreement; Ianto buttoned up his waistcoat and slid on his jacket before helping Jack on with the new greatcoat, just like always... he brushed his fingers over the younger man's entirely intentionally when he did, then he strode back to the main area of the Hub-2 with the other at his side.

"I'm back," Jack announced with a gleeful smile to the rest of his team.

"Yes you are," Gwen agreed heartily.

"You can knock us down but not out, yeah?" Mickey grinned up at him. He'd booted up the second laptop they'd 'borrowed' off the streets, and was logging into the Torchwood server.

"Yeah," their Captain agreed.

"What's first on the agenda, then?" Ianto inquired, needlessly. He knew the answer, he just wanted to hear Jack say it.

"First things first. I need you to work some of that coffee magic."

"Of course, Sir," he smirked quietly to himself and turned to the supplies he'd purchased earlier, while Jack sat down at the second computer.

"Forbisher has to be the key to all this," the Captain mused as he typed. Gwen had filled him in on the information she and Rhys had gotten from Lois Habiba yesterday. The order to kill him and those other three people, people Jack had never heard of before, came directly from John Frobisher's office—from Forbisher himself. "But what I don't understand is how—or why," he said aloud. "He's just a middle man, a civil servant. No way he has the authority to start ordering government sanctioned executions."

"Maybe if we knew _why _he wanted you out of the way," said Gwen, "why he wants _**us**_ out of the way, then maybe we'd know how. We need get inside Whitehall."

Ianto spoke up from behind them, "Sarah Jane has a friend who might be able to help, he used to be a Deputy Director for MI-5. He's probably still got connections at Thames House."

The others turned and gaped.

"What? I know everything, remember?" He quipped with a jocular smile.

Jack returned it. "Yeah. But unfortunately, we don't have a whole lot of time here. According to the last message 'they' are coming back today—whoever they are."

"Hey, Mickey," Gwen sat up in her chair, leaning toward him, "do you have access to the I-five software?"

"Should have, why?"

"Because I have an idea," she said, holding up the contact lenses case they'd discovered last night, when the searched the warehouse to see what kind of supplies they had to work with.

"Contact lenses?" Jack inquired.

She grinned. "_Torchwood _contact lenses, Jack. All we have to do is get somebody inside wearing these and we can see everything that they see."

"Who's going to do that, then?" Mickey wanted to know. If any of them tried, they ran the risk of being identified and shot on sight.

"We do have one person on the outside still talking to us," Gwen reminded them. "Lois."

"Are you sure you want to involve her any further?" asked Jack. "She's just a civilian. A temp." Then again, Donna Noble had been a temp…

"She helped us find you, didn't she?"

But before he could answer, she was on her feet and out the door.

Ianto handed Jack his coffee. "I guess that settles that then," his tone was dry.

He just smiled and stepped away from the computer to think, coffee in hand. He'd been staring at John Fobisher's picture for the last ten minutes. It wasn't helping. There was no discernable connection, other than Forbisher was their contact in the Home Office… which made the situation make even _less_ sense. He should be calling for their help, not ordering their deaths.

Jack rubbed the back of his neck, trying to ease some of the tension out… he found a pair of Welsh hands on his shoulders.

"If you'd care to sit…?"

He shook his head. "Why don't you check that email account you set up to see if Sarah Jane's answered you yet," he suggested instead. He didn't want to voice how anxious he was to hear from her to know that Sara and the kids, his mother, had arrived safely. But when he looked more closely at his partner, he realized he didn't have to say it.

A few moments later, Ianto reported that Sarah Jane had received his email and was suggesting they meet near where they met the first time—and most importantly, that everybody was fine.

Jack closed his eyes. If he believed in God, he might have thanked Him or Her or It or Them… but he didn't share his partner's convictions on the subject of the Divine. Nonetheless, he was grateful that his family was all right. And he realized Ianto was waiting for him to say something.

"You go on without me," he said.

"Cariad…"

He shook his head. "Go. Fill Sara and Sarah Jane in on everything we've got so far. I have to stay here and work, I need to figure this out. But if you see them…" Jason…Seren… she was too young, but what was his son thinking…?

"I'll tell Jason that you love him," Ianto assured him. "I'll give Seren a kiss for you. And I'll ask Sarah Jane if she can get in touch with Harry Sullivan."

"Thank you."

"You're welcome." He went over to the table where they'd lain out the guns and ammunition they'd found to chose a weapon. Jack followed him; he was standing _very _close. "Do you have an opinion, Sir? Or are you just enjoying feeling me up?"

Jack's smirk was audible. He reached around Ianto with both hands (one on either side of him) and picked out a gun. "This looks just about the right size, don't you think?"

"You _are_ the expert," he smirked right back without missing a beat.

"And don't you forget it," Jack purred into his hear.

The younger man turned to face him, a smart remark poised on the tip of his tongue, but his partner's expression stopped him. It wasn't his usual cocky grin, but something much softer. His own smile warmed when he looked into those amazing blue eyes.

Jack pressed a soft kiss to his lips. "I love you," he said. "Be careful out there."

"I will. I love you too."

He waited until Ianto had gone (and made no attempt to hide his appreciation of the view of his Welshman's retreat) before settled back in front of the computer.

Forbisher wasn't the answer. He couldn't be. There had to be something more, something he wasn't seeing. Something besides an empty coffee cup… "Hey Mickey," he called over as he stood. "Bring up Clement MacDonald's history for me, would you?"

"You're the boss, Boss."

"Don't get cute," the Captain said over his shoulder, "That's Ianto's job."

Mickey just laughed and went to work while their fearless leader headed towards the make-shift kitchenette where there should be…yes! there was still enough coffee in the pot for one more cup.

He refilled his mug…and realized that although Rhys and Nerys had been standing there deep in conversation when he walked over, they'd gone suddenly gone silent now that he was standing there with them. Rhys was doing a fine job of trying too hard to look like he was finding the job of washing up entirely too scintillating to be distracted from. Nerys was looking past him at a spot on the wall that was apparently incredibly interesting.

"Am I interrupting something?" Jack inquired of the pair.

Nerys cleared her throat. "Can—can I talk to you a minute?" she asked him in a timid sounding tone.

Jack looked at her; he could tell that she wasn't seeing him the same way she had forty eight ours ago. He glanced back over his shoulder towards Mickey. It looked like he had the file up, but he supposed Ianto's sister had the right to ask him a few questions, given everything she'd been through, even if it was her own fault for tagging along. He wasn't sure how many of them he could or would answer, but he changed course and sat down on the old sofa instead of heading back to the computers.

Nerys sat down next to him, but not too close. Not as close as she would have two days ago. "They said you can't die. Even Rhys."

Jack regarded her a long moment. He drank his coffee. So far he wasn't hearing a question, so he remained silent.

"How is that possible, Jack?"

"That's…it's a long story. Something happened to me a long time ago. A long time from now."

She frowned, but didn't ask for clarification. "Ianto said…he told me you're over two thousand years old."

Jack smirked, "Yeah, but I'll bet I don't look a day over one thousand—"

"That's not funny, Jack! If you can't die, if you're really that old, if nothing can ever kill you—Ianto is going to grow old in front of you, isn't he? He's going to turn into a shrivelled up old man and you're going to stay exactly the same as you are now."

He decided against telling her how few of Torchwood Three's employees had ever lived into old age; those who had, had only survived because they'd retired early, something her brother refused to do.

"I found a new grey hair the other day," he told her instead; it was the same thing he'd told his daughter just a few days before. Nerys, appreciated the light heartedness of his tone even less than Alice had. At least she'd been able to tease him back, stained though the attempt had been, telling him that it really must be the end of the world, then, Jack Harkness finding a grey hair.

"You're going to watch us all grow old and die, aren't you, even your own children?" Nerys asked…accused. It reminded him of the way Alice's mother had sounded, the very last time that they'd spoken. She told him to get out of her life, to stay away from her and her daughter—their daughter. He'd abided her wishes, waited until Alice was old enough to understand, but by then she didn't want anything to do with him, either. Maybe he'd waited too long…not long enough… maybe it didn't matter what he did. She wanted him to stay away and yet she got angry at him for not being there.

He wondered if someday Seren and Jason would do the same thing. He hadn't been lying when he told Ianto he was a lousy father, even if he'd only told him half the story. He hadn't told him about Alice…her son… her mother.

It was one thing for him to tell his partner about Laura, their girls, long dead and gone, but Alice was still alive and well, and she was nearly twice Ianto's age. His worst fear, after all the other 'worst fears' he had every single day about losing him in the line of duty, was that some day his Welshman was going to do the same thing Alice's mother had, and that maybe meeting his forty year old daughter would push him closer towards that moment. Some day Ianto was going to realize that only one of them was looking any older…

Not that Alice would want to meet his twenty six year old husband any more than he wanted to introduce them. She never asked if he was seeing anybody, he never volunteered that kind of information. Their conversations were few and far between and started with did she have enough money and ended with how his grandson was doing in school.

"What will you do after he's gone, Jack?" Nerys' voice cut through his thoughts. "Will you move on, meet somebody else, start a new life?"

He stared into the depths of his coffee, but didn't find any answers there. "What do you want me to say? That I'll never love anybody else?"

"You've done this before, haven't you? Not just Jason's other parent, you've…you've had other families, other lives before this." It wasn't a question. "How many Jack?"

He didn't answer.

"Tell me. How many?"

He looked up at her, "Does it really matter?"

"It does to me. Ianto's my brother, he's the one I care about. What's going to happen when he's an old man, Jack? Will you still look at him the same way? Will you leave him because he's not handsome any more?"

"_No."_

"Did you leave any of the other Mr or Mrs Harknesses?" her tone was scathing.

He took a sip of his rapidly cooling coffee as he considered his answer. "A few," he admitted the truth. "But that was different. Those relationships…they were different." Alice's mother… Estelle… Roan… they were all so different.

"Different how?" she wanted to know.

"All you need to know is that they were," he stood up. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have more important things to do than sit around arguing with you about my exes." He stalked off.

………………………………………………………

"It's happening again," Wendy breathed… they were just disembarking from the transport plane that had gotten them back home—or at least as far as just outside of London.

"What's happening again?" Gibbs wanted to know. It took him only a half a second to realize that none of the others needed to ask, not even the UNIT doctor. There was a remarkable lack of the usual interagency friction between her and the Torchwood team.

"The children," Wendy told him. "It's happening again with the children."

"How did you know that?"

"She can feel it," Bobby explained; he eyed the troops near by, but they didn't seem to be paying any attention to them. He manoeuvred himself so he was standing between Wendy and Tim and Abby's old boss, while leading the entire team further away from the soldiers. He was grateful to Gibbs for whatever strings he'd pulled to get them back, no questions asked, and he desperately wanted to avoid complications, now…. Not for the first time did he wish he knew what Jack would do in a situation like this… _probably start flirting and try to charm his way out and end up getting himself shot for his trouble,_ he thought acerbically. But the thought made him smile anyway.

He turned back to Gibbs. "Every time it happens, every time whoever, or whatever 'they' are, send a message through the kids, she feels it. She doesn't hear the words, but she knows its happening."

"How?"

"I don't know," Wendy told him. She was visibly shaken enough that he believed her.

"It must have something to do with you being…" Abby stopped midsentence, a guilty look playing across her face. It didn't help that Gibbs was staring at her. "Don't look at me like that, Gibbs, please," she implored. "Wendy is one of the best people I know—and she's beautiful," she added, knowing that was one of Wendy's sore spots because most people called her other skin monstrous. She turned back to her old boss. "You have to believe me. Please?"

He looked at her. At Tim. He cast a quick glance towards Martha Jones Milligan, but it appeared that she knew what was going, even if he didn't.

"All that matters—" Bobby began.

"All that matters," the older man cut him off, "is figuring out what's going on. Now what can you tell us?" he asked Wendy.

"Honestly nothing. I just… _feel_… something."

His eyes narrowed. "Would you like to explain that or should I just start guessing?"

Bobby tightened his grip on her hand, moving her further behind him.

"I'm not human," she said anyway, her tone softer than usual.

"Yeah," Gibbs gave Abby a sharp glace. "I kinda figured that."

"Is there a problem—?" Bobby began.

"I don't know, you tell me," the other responded.

"All right, look," Martha stepped in before things got any worse. "There are aliens on Earth, have been for years. Some are like the Daleks, Cybermen, Sontarans—others are just regular people, trying to get buy. They're just like we are. And anyway, Wendy isn't technically an alien, she was born here, this is her planet, too," she added. "So we can either work together or stand around arguing…"

"Who's arguing?" Gibbs asked.

She nodded and turned her gaze to Bobby.

He took a breath and let it out. He took another. "All right," he agreed. "We're going to need access to a computer, weapons, ammunition," he said, looking at his own people, obviously open to suggestions.

"There's an old Torchwood facility in London," said Tim. "There might be some equipment that was left behind."

Bobby gave him questioning look.

"Maybe I don't know everything," he replied with a wry grin, "but I've been working in the archives the last year now. So maybe I know… almost everything?"

Martha grinned, "And after we check that out, I have a pretty good idea who in London has a big enough computer for you," she told them.

"Maybe we should split up," Tim suggested. "We could cover more ground…"

Bobby shook his head. "No, we stay together. If it really _is _happening, if 'they' are here, we can't risk spreading ourselves out like that." He swallowed back the cold lump in his throat and decided that someone had to put to voice the thing he knew they'd all been thinking the past two days. "This could be it, guys," he looked at each in turn, even Gibbs, even though he wasn't going to understand what he was saying. "Jack is always telling us that the twenty first century is when it all changes. Maybe _this_ is how it happens."


	18. Day Three Part Two

**Again, huge thank you's to everybody...** I feel like I owe an apology for any false sense of security I gave in sending Ianto away for the moment... he doesn't stay away for long. And yes, Nerys helped them in the criminal endevours....

* * *

**Chapter Eighteen:  
Day Three, Part Two**

"_He who passively accepts evil is as much involved in it as he who helps to perpetrate it.  
He who accepts evil without protesting against it is really cooperating with it.__"_

Martin Luther King, JR.

* * *

"Sarah Jane," Ianto breathed softly into the hug she gave him. They were standing on the street corner where they'd first met when the Daleks invaded, before stealing the Earth out of orbit. "I can't tell you how glad I am to see you."

"Likewise," Sarah Jane told him.

"It's good to see you too," Ianto took Sara's hands into his and held onto them tightly for a moment.

"What about Jack?" she wanted to know, even though Sarah Jane must have told her that he was all right.

"He's fine," Ianto promised. "Well, he was after we got him out of the track pants and t-shirt he borrowed off Rhys," he added with a smirk.

Sara laughed at the mental image he'd just conjured for her. "I bet he wished he was dead all over again."

"Pretty much, yeah," he agreed. Then he turned back to Sarah Jane Smith. "How are Jason and Seren? Jack's mam?"

"They're doing fine. Luke and K-9 are looking after them," she assured him. "I think Jason is a little shaken by all this, but he's a tough little boy."

"He'd have to be." Everything Jason had been through, losing his other father, being brought back through time, finding his Papa again, finding him married, being stuck on a strange planet in what Jack considered the sexual dark ages, having to lie about so many things… Sarah Jane laid a hand on his shoulder. He gave her a tight lipped smile and asked if anyone had suspected that Jason wasn't being affected by whatever was affected the other children.

"No. We've kept him inside. But he's had visitors, Maria from across the street, and Clyde's been by. He's doing fine, Ianto."

"How has Seren been for you? Not keeping the whole house up at night, I hope?" He had _**so **_hoped to see both Jason and Seren for himself, to hug them, give Seren that kiss from Jack… but Sarah Jane was right not to bring them with her, it was too dangerous.

"Well… I must say I've never really had a baby in my house before… oh she's fine, Ianto," she said to his expression. "Jack's mum is lovely with her. And she said to give both you and Jack her love and that I should tell you to bring her son back to her in one piece," she smiled.

He grimaced; if Ella had had any idea what had happened to him… he forced a smile, unaware of the way he was rubbing his thumb against his wedding ring. He doubted his husband would ever tell his mother what had happened to him two days ago. "Give her Jack's love back, then. And mine. Tell her I'll be doing my best to look after him."

"Look after yourself, as well," Sarah Jane advised.

"Always. Thank you. I should be getting back," he told her then, glancing up and down the street… no one seemed to be paying them any mind. He reached into his pocket for a computer disk. "Here's everything we've got so far," he passed it over. "Is there any way you can contact Harry Sullivan?"

"I should be able to do, why?"

"Something is going on at Thames House. We have someone inside, but we could do with any help he can give us. The Home Office is…they've shut us out. They should have asked for Torchwood's help, but instead they tried to assassinate Jack, did kill three other people, but we don't know what the connection is. It's all on the disk."

She nodded and handed him a set of disks from her bag. "Here's everything we've got. Mr Smith was able to isolate the signal, it's definitely coming from space, but we can't block it. Whatever, or whoever they are, it's not a species I've seen before. Here," she handed him what looked like a mobile phone. "They can't trace this, it doesn't use the mobile network. You can use it to keep in touch."

"All right." He pocketed the phone and looked to Sara, "Ready to go back to work?"

She flashed a wide grin, "Oh yeah."

The Welshman turned to Sarah Jane. "Thanks again. Tell… tell Jason we love him. We miss him—both of us."

"I will. There's a disk in there marked 'personal'. It's not much, just something from Jason to you and Jack. He really misses you. Both of you, Ianto. That little boy loves you very much."

"I know. I love him too."

"All right," she gave him a quick, last hug, "now go on and do what you and Jack do best."

"I should think we'd better save the world first."

"Oh!" She his arm, laughing. "You. You've spent entirely too much time around that Captain of yours, Ianto Jones."

"Every chance I get."

She shook her head, still smiling. "Take care yourself. And him. I know he's immortal, but…I still worry."

"Me too," he leant in and kissed her cheek.

Sarah Jane watched them go, then turned and headed home…

…………………………………………………………….

"So how bad is it, really?" Sara asked when she and Ianto got back on the road; they were in Mickey's jeep.

"We're living like criminals in an old abandoned Torchwood One facility. We have a hand full of guns, ammunition…contact lenses. Don't ask. And we've stolen enough money and computer equipment from the good citizens of London to, oh, I don't know, set ourselves up in a very small office cubical," his tone was ripe with cynicism. "But on the flipside, we can still get into the server, so at least we have access to all our software. And I managed to find an army surplus store that had a greatcoat in Jack's size," he added with a much less cynical looking smile.

Sara chuckled. "I'm sure you made him a very happy man."

"Not nearly as…" he cleared his throat, deciding not to go there. "It was nice to get him out of Rhys's clothes, at least."

"I'm sure it was," she smirked.

He remained mute on the subject.

Sara hesitated a moment before asking if anyone had heard from the rest of the team, yet.

"Mickey got a call from Tim and Abby a couple of days ago, but we haven't heard from them since, or from Bobby and Wendy. I'm sure they're fine," he lied. Well… it wasn't complete lie. He hoped they were fine. He believed that they were; he had to believe.

He continued to fill Sara in on the events of the last couple of days as he drove. By the time they reached to the warehouse, she was up to speed…and he saw that they had a visitor, Clement MacDonald, freshly sprung from jail thanks to Gwen—with a little help from PC Andy Davidson.

"Where's Jack?" he asked, realizing quickly that someone was missing.

"He went swanning off again," Mickey told him. "Me an' him were looking at the history for that Holly Tree Lodge, Clem there, and those other three people, the ones that died the same day…well…" he shrugged, Clem wasn't really within earshot, but he still wasn't going to say something like how Jack had died and come back, how he did it on a regular basis, in fact. "Then all of a sudden, he gets this funny look on his face and he bolts out the door without so much as a word about where he's goin' or why. I haven't heard from him since."

Ianto felt his jaw clenching in frustration. But getting angry wouldn't help. "All right. This is what I got from Sarah Jane," he handed over the disks, all but the one that was meant for he and Jack personally. "Hopefully there's something on there that will be useful to us. She gave me this too, said it was untraceable," he gave Mickey the 'phone,' and started to turn towards the kitchen area.

"What're you doing, then?"

"Putting on a pot of coffee." He needed it. He didn't care about what anybody else needed just then, _he_ needed coffee. Of all the times for Jack to decide to pull a disappearing act on them…

"Ianto—" Mickey called, causing him to turn back around. "I…I'm not sure it's my place, mate, but Nerys had a go at Jack earlier. I only caught part of it…but… she's been kinda… distant since. I think it's the whole him not bein' able to die."

The Welshman bit down on his anger. Nerys wouldn't even _be _there if it weren't for Mickey the Idiot… no, he realized, that probably wasn't true. He knew what his sister was like. "I'll talk to her. Thanks."

…………………………………………………

Ianto found his sister sitting outside by herself just staring out at the city. The sun had set, the city was ablaze with lights. It almost seemed normal.

"Doesn't look the same, does it?" he asked her, handing her a cup of coffee and then sitting down next to her, his own mug in hand.

"Why didn't you tell me any of this Ianto?"

"Tell you what, exactly? You know what I do. You even know that Jack is from another time, another planet."

"But you _said_ he was human."

"He is."

"He can't die."

"No. He can't die."

"And he never gets any older looking…"

He smiled. "He found a gray hair last week."

She just looked at him, unable to fathom his calm. "How do you do it, Ianto? How do you…how can you be with somebody who won't ever look any older? Someone who will outlive you, who…who will just move on when you're dead? You know he will, don't you? He'll meet someone else, start a new life…" despite her best efforts, she was crying again. She didn't even know why any more.

"I want him to move on, find somebody else. Love somebody else. Maybe even get married again," he smiled… the thought of Jack happy always made him smile, even if it was the thought of him happy with someone else.

"How…how can you say something like that? You're supposed to want him to love you. Only you."

He set down his cup and rested a hand on her arm. "Nerys, his life is too long. Mine is too short. When I die, he _will _move on. I'm at peace with that. I have been for a long time."

"How?"

"I love him."

She was about to open her mouth, to ask how anybody could possibly love someone that much, when a pair of unfamiliar vehicles, both SUV's, rounded the corner and stopped just in front of the warehouse.

Ianto swore and bolted back inside.

"We've got company!" He announced, grabbing up the gun he'd set down when he went to make the coffee. Mickey had his in hand by the time Ianto was armed and ready.

Clem flinched and darted behind Rhys as Gwen and Sara armed themselves as well.

A moment later they heard the voice.

"Here it is, Torchwood…" Tim stopped mid-sentence.

There was a moment's pause while all and sundry gathered up scattered wits before guns were lowered and exuberant greetings exchanged.

"I was so afraid I would never see you again," Wendy pulled Ianto up into a fierce, nearly rib-cracking, hug.

He didn't mind. "Me too," he told her. "We knew they deployed teams to the US, but we couldn't get in touch, not without risking…" guilt still plagued him for that. He should have risked it, should warned them.

She shook her head. "It was the right decision, Ianto."

Martha was behind her, waiting for a chance to hug him; her embrace was eager. "Where's Jack?" she wanted to know, after they'd pulled apart and she'd had a chance to look around. "Ianto…"

"He's all right," the Welshman assured her quickly. "He—"

"He ran off again," Gwen cut him off. "Don't know where, but that's typical Jack, then, isn't it?" she didn't sound pleased.

"I'm sure it was something important," Ianto said in a firm tone, not that he was any more pleased with Jack than she was at the moment, but he was aware that the man the others brought with them, a man he recognized from his background search on Abby and Tim as their former supervisor from NCIS, was listening. Watching. Assessing the situation. He straightened himself and walked over to him, extending his hand. "Ianto Jones-Harkness, Sir. Welcome to Torchwood—such as it is at the moment."

"Jethro Gibbs," he accepted the young man's handshake; it was firmer than he would have expected.

"If it weren't for Gibbs we never would have gotten home," Abby informed Ianto.

"We appreciate the assistance," the young Welshman said to him, in an earnest, formal tone—although he had no idea what Jack was going to say to it when he got back. "Can I offer you a cup of coffee?"

"Ianto makes the _best_ coffee!"

"So I've heard," said Gibbs, still regarding the young man in the three piece suit with interest. Most of the rest of the group seemed to be falling in line behind him, making a semi-circle around him, all except for the dark skinned kid in a leather jacket, who was back at the computers working on something, and the big guy… the old man… the girl sitting on the sofa looking a big shell shocked.

"I don't know about the 'best' coffee," the Welshman said modestly, casting a quick glance in Wendy's direction, "but I certainly try. Please," he gestured courteously towards the make-shift living area. "I'm afraid it's not much, but we've got the basics covered at least. Obviously you've met Bobby and Wendy," he said, beginning the introductions. "This is Gwen Cooper and her husband, Rhys Williams,"

"Not Torchwood, thank you," Rhys informed him, although his tone was amiable enough. "Just an average citizen doing my bit for crown and country, yeah," he added with a grin.

Ianto continued, "This is Sara Sidle, formerly of the Las Vegas Crime Lab, in the United States," (she reached over and shook Gibbs' hand, exchanging brief pleasantries) "and that's Mickey Smith over there by the computers."

The dark skinned kid looked up, flashed a grin and gave vague sort of a salute.

"And this is my sister Nerys… and Mr Clem MacDonald," he nodded towards the skittish looking old man who seemed to be trying very hard not to be noticed. "Coffee won't be a moment, feel free to make yourself comfortable," he added in Gibbs' direction.

He nodded his thanks and took a seat that gave him a good vantage point of most of the area. The boy in the suit—he couldn't be more than twenty five—wasn't the one Gibbs would have pegged as the leader, but he seemed to bear the role comfortable, and the rest of them seemed to respect him in it.

Abby joined Mickey at the computers and asked him to fill her in on what they had; Tim and Sara followed right behind her.

"We've been compiling the data we got from Sarah Jane," Sara told her, "we're trying to use it to get a more complete picture of what's really going on out there."

Ianto looked over his shoulder while he was making the coffee. "Bobby, Martha, I'd like you to have a look at Mr MacDonald…" he glanced around. "Clem?"

He had moved further behind Rhys again, further into the shadows.

"It's all right, mate," the big man told him. "They're friends. Really. You can trust us."

"She's different," he looked directly at Wendy. "She doesn't smell like the rest of you. She isn't human!" he cried, much to Wendy's obvious discomfort.

Bobby shifted closer to her, took her hand.

Gwen moved towards Clem at the same time. "You're safe here, remember?" she soothed. "And remember, when we talked before and I said I'd met lots of aliens? Not all of them are bad. Some of them are our friends. Wendy is our friend. She would be your friend too, if you wanted her to," she held her hand out for Wendy.

Bobby gave her a look, silently questioning if she was sure what she knew was doing—across the room, Ianto's expression was much the same, especially as he glanced towards Tim and Abby's old boss—but Wendy moved over to him anyway and Gibbs didn't show any signs of thinking this was weird. Which really only meant he must be a Hell of a poker player.

"I won't hurt you," Wendy promised the old man.

He sniffed the air. "You're telling the truth!" he looked at Gwen, "She's telling the truth!"

"Yes she is," she agreed.

Wendy favoured him with a kind smile. "I know it's overwhelming here," her tone was equally kind, patient. "I was overwhelmed when I first met all these new people too. But they're good people, Clem. Good friends."

He nodded, slowly, but he looked less afraid.

Gwen took him by the hand and drew him out from around her husband. "Bobby and Martha are doctors…"

He flinched.

"Not that kind of doctors," she assured him quickly.

The pair exchanged brief perplexed looks; she stepped forward first, seeing as the old man seemed to have an easier time with strangers who were female.

"Clem was it?" She asked in a gentle tone. "My name's Martha," she held out her hand… he accepted…and drew it up to his nose, inhaling deeply. Whatever he smelled, he seemed satisfied by it. "Well, that was…different…" she glanced up at Bobby, who had no more idea what that had been all about than she did.

"Clem is the only adult being been 'affected' the same way as the children," Gwen told them. "We don't know why, but Mickey can pull up his history for you," she nodded to Bobby, since Clem was still eyeing him wearily but seemed to have accepted Martha.

"That's not quite true," Wendy told them in a sheepish tone. "He's not the only adult. I erm… something… I feel something, every time they speak through the children, I feel it."

Clem looked back at her wide eyed, but not with fear—it was more like he finally felt wasn't alone any more, that someone else understood him. _Really _understood him.

Ianto looked up as well, however his expression was anything _but_ happy.

Wendy cleared her throat. She wasn't used to being front and centre, only it wasn't just Ianto staring at her, waiting for an explanation. "It started right before the first incident," she said, "and hasn't really gone away since, it just…it changes. I can feel it changing just before the kids start to speak—every time it happens, it feels like I'm getting a better handle on it. I don't hear the words, but whatever signal they're using to make the kids do that, I feel it, too."

"We think it's because of what Wendy is," Abby interjected. "Because her senses are so much better than ours…"

Ianto shot her a dark look. It was one thing to have the raving lunatic going on about her not being human—

"It's all right, Yan," Wendy told him. "He already knows."

Ianto blinked. Nodded once. And went back to fixing the coffee. He would decide later if they were going to have to retcon Jethro Gibbs. Or better yet, Jack would decide, if he ever came back.

"Hey, guys," Sara called, drawing their attention towards the computer. "I think that woman you've got inside just put the contacts in. I'm getting a signal."

"Oh yes, Lois! Good girl!" Gwen exclaimed, darting for the computer. Sara slid over so her colleague could get in front of the laptop. "Thanks… Clem," she motioned him towards her as the others started to gather around. "Clem, come see this," she coaxed gently.

As the others gathered around the computer, Nerys slipped into the kitchen area to give Ianto a hand. "Ianto, I…" she laid a hand on his shoulder. "I—I'm sorry—what I said. I know what I must've sounded like."

"You're entitled to your opinion," he said, his tone colder than he'd meant it. He didn't look at her, not directly. He was busy fixing everybody's cups.

"Ianto…please."

He stopped, met her gaze. "You really are entitled to your opinion, Nerys."

"I'm sorry."

"Accepted." He smiled. "I realize that there are a lot of people who wouldn't understand about us. I don't understand it myself most of the time," he admitted. "I just know how I feel, how much he means to me. There is nothing about my life that I would change." _Just please get back here…_ he thought in the other's direction.

…………………………………………………

"So what is this," Gibbs was asking, as Ianto set the coffee cup down by his elbow, the handle exactly at seven o'clock. He regarded it a moment, regarded the young man, and then turned his attention back to the laptop screen. "Some kind of surveillance glasses?" he questioned.

Gwen grinned up over at him, "Something like that."

"Audio?" he asked.

"No. But we have lip reading software."

"Except she can't see his face, can she?" Mickey pointed out.

"Hang on," Gwen typed something onto the keyboard.

" 'Need to see his moth'?" Rhys queried.

"Shut up," Gwen snapped as she retyped the sentence, without the typo this time.

"You can send messages—?" Gibbs wanted to know.

"She sees the words I'm tying," the Welshwoman confirmed. "Pretty cool, yeah?"

"You should have seen the Hub," Abby began. She glanced around; she hadn't asked yet, she'd been too afraid to. "How bad is it?"

"Total destruction," Ianto informed her.

"Myfanwy?"

"Flying around Barry," said Rhys. "Saw it in the Sun last night, 'Dinosaur Sighting'," he gave a broad grin in Abby's direction. "Had to be her, didn't it? Well, unless there's another one flying around…"

Gibbs gave him a look, clearly not certain whether or not he should believe anything about flying dinosaurs in Barry, or anywhere else for that matter.

Ianto cleared his throat, effectively ending the discussion about the pterodactyl. It was going to be him and Jack who would have to track her down, catch her, bring her back home again, when this was all over. He was the only one she would really come to anyway, although he supposed she did rather fancy Abby almost as much as Abby fancied her.

"Why can't we hear the alien's replies?" Mickey wondered aloud; Lois had moved so that they were getting Frobisher's half of the conversation, but not that alien's.

"Probably because it doesn't have a mouth," Sara opined. "No mouth, no lips to read."

"Hang on…" Gwen typed in a message for Lois.

The image panned down to her notepad…

"Great, bloody shorthand," Rhys grumbled.

"I can read that," Ianto told them.

"Me too… I just…" Tim cleared his throat. "You know, if you need help. I'll shut up now," he offered.

"I still love you, Timmy," Abby comforted him.

Gibbs made little effort to hide his smile at that.

"Shhh, quiet," Gwen hissed. "Frobisher is talking again."

Just then there was a slight jolt from Lois as green slime splattered all over the inside of the tank housing the alien.

"What the Hell was _that_? " Sara leaned in for a closer look as Clem MacDonald flinched away, terrified. Wendy sidled in next to him, telling him quietly that it was all right, she wouldn't let anything happen to him, she promised.

Martha peered over Gwen's other shoulder. "Can you zoom in at all?" she asked.

"A bit yeah," said Gwen, but it didn't seem to help. "It's that smoke, it's too thick, we can't see a bloody thing!"

Sara reached around Gwen as she was talking and typed _what just happened? _into the keyboard.

" 'Was going to ask you same,' " Ianto translated the shorthand.

Bobby edged in between Sara and Martha, looking over top of Gwen's head for a better view of the screen. "I've never seen anything like that before."

Gibbs gave him a look. "You see a lot of aliens in Cardiff, Dr Chase?" his tone was incredulous. He didn't notice the guilty look plaguing Abby's face, didn't know that the cause of it was having had to retcon Tony last Christmas…

"Plenty, thanks," the Australian replied, taking a sip from his coffee cup. He turned back to the screen. "I just wish we could get a first hand look at that room. It looks like there's some kind of gauge on the outside of the tank," he pointed it out. "If I could see it, I might be able to tell what the atmosphere inside the tank is. It might give us a better idea what we're dealing with."

"Well whatever it is, that air can't be anything like Earth's atmosphere," said Martha.

"No…" he agreed, leaning in closer, right over top of Gwen, trying to get a better look.

"Hang on," she adjusted the zoom for a wider view as Lois turned back towards Frobisher. He speaking again.

"God, is he a smarmy weasel or what?" Mickey said, not quite under his breath, as the politician rambled.

"The smarmiest," Abby agreed.

"I've been given a request for specific information," Frobisher was saying, his words relayed to them through the laptop. "It has been asked, why the 456 chose Great Britain as its chosen place of embarkation."

" 'We came here,' " Ianto said, reading Lois' shorthand.

"_Because?"_ Sara asked him.

"That's all it says," Tim interjected before the other could reply.

"It's like it's thinking about the answer…?" Ianto shot over a questioning look.

"Why would it have to think about it?" Mickey wanted to know. "It must know why they came here."

"Hang on," Ianto told them. " 'We came here because you are of no significance'," he read. " 'You are middle men.' "

"That's a lie!" said Gwen. "They came here because they've been here before, in 1965! We _know_ that."

Gibbs gave her a look. "You do. But does anybody else whose seeing this know it?" he inquired in a thoughtful tone.

They looked at one another… "They couldn't," Gwen finally answered him. "Not unless somebody told them…"

"They're covering their asses," said Sara. "Those…"

"Those rotten, no good, smarmy weasels!" Abby cut her off. It wasn't what Sara was going to call them, but it was close enough.

"It's Frobisher," Ianto breathed. "His office. The _Home Office_. Whatever happened in the past, they're the ones who are hiding it. That's why we've been cut out of what's going on—why Martha was cut out."

"Politicians," said Gibbs, draining the last of his coffee. It didn't matter what side of the Atlantic one was on, politicians were all the same.

"I don't understand," Nerys spoke up for the first time, having watched the whole thing in stark, gut twisting horror. "Why would they do that? Aren't you lot supposed to be the alien experts or something?"

Ianto slid over to her, eased his hands around her waist, drew her in close. "It's not that simple, Ner—"

"Hang on," said Tim, "It's Lois," he drew their attention back to the screen. "She says they have a 'request'," he translated the shorthand. "The aliens, they have a request," his tone betrayed his dubiousness of the nature of anything they might be about to ask for.

"By all means," Frobisher responded.

"We want a gift," Ianto got the next bit of shorthand.

"By all means," said Frobisher. "What ah, what nature of gift?"

" 'We want a gift'," it repeated.

"A gift, gladly, but what do you want?" Frobisher repeated.

" 'We want your children. We will take your children,' " even as he read the words, Ianto's stomach churned and tightened into a cold hard knot. Nerys turned in his arms, silencing her sob into his shoulder; he wrapped his arms around her, but he couldn't think of anything to say.

"They want to take them," Clem was pacing. "They want to take them like they did before, like the man did…"

"No," Abby protested. "No. We won't let them…**no!"** she looked to Ianto, but the Welshman was still too stunned to speak.

"Like Hell those…whatever they are, are taking anybody's kids," said Gibbs.

"Hell, no!" Mickey agreed with him.

"Right," Martha nodded. "We need a plan."

"We need Jack," said Ianto, his voice so quiet nobody but Nerys heard him. "I need him," he whispered, softer yet.

Behind them, Clem was still pacing, still rambling, sniffing the air as if he could smell something.

Wendy tried to calm him. "It's all right," she said. "No one's coming, it's all right, you're safe here. I promise you, you're safe here," she looked up as she heard footsteps in the warehouse, but it was just Jack. She knew his scent. He was finally back and everything would be all right. "Clem…" he'd stopped pacing and was staring straight ahead:

"No, no it's not all right! He's coming _back_. The man… he's coming, he's coming…he's …he hasn't changed, he's just the same!"

"Clement MacDonald," Jack's voice, though softer than usual, brought about absolute silence, save for soft the hum and whir of the computers running. "Just another name. It was _easier _if you didn't know the names."


	19. Day Three Part Three

**Chapter Nineteen:  
Day Three, Part Three:**

"_It is the confession, not the priest, that gives us absolution"_

Oscar Wilde

* * *

"…_the man… he's coming, he's coming…he's …he hasn't changed, he's just the same!"_

"_Clement MacDonald. Just another name. It was __**easier**__ if you didn't know the names."_

Wendy eased herself between Jack and Clem, eyeing the former with suspicion. "What do you mean, 'easier' Jack?" she wanted to know.

"Easier to do the job."

"What job?" Sara asked him, her eyes narrowed.

"He's the man," Clem repeated. "But…but he hasn't changed…that's impossible…it's impossible, he hasn't changed…he's the man…! It was him, he took us…he took us into the light!"

"What are you talking about, Clem?" Gwen stood up, moved towards Clem and Wendy, towards Jack. "What is he saying Jack?" she wanted to know. "Were you there? In nineteen sixty five? Did you see what happened?" she asked him, confusion becoming clarity, as she searched for an answer that made sense out of what Clem was saying, what Jack was saying.

"I was there," he told her.

"What happened?" Sara asked, still standing several metres away. "What did you do?"

"I gave them twelve children."

Tim sagged into his seat, a look of devastated horror on his face… Martha looked like she was going to be ill; Nerys was ill. The others stood, slack jawed…disbelief etched onto their faces.

"No," Abby broke the silence. "You wouldn't do something like that. We're the good guys—come on," she looked around at the rest of them. "We're the good guys here."

"Abbs…" Gibbs laid a hand on her shoulder.

(Jack had no idea why Leroy Jethro Gibbs was there, he just recognized him from his picture in a file. He supposed it didn't really matter. And anyway, Abby was still talking: )

"We're the good guys, Gibbs!" she insisted. "Tell him, Jack! We fight the bad aliens. It's a mistake, that's all. Clem was a just little kid when it happened, he made a mistake. He knew you were there and he just _thought _you the one handing them over, but you weren't. You were there to stop them! _**Tell him Jack!"**_It was more a plea than a statement. _"Tell him you were there to stop it!"_

"There's no mistake, Abby," he told her calmly. "I wasn't there to stop it. I gave them the children. In nineteen sixty five, I gave—"

"No! You're the hero, Jack! You're the _dashing _hero! Dashing heroes don't _**do**_ that!"

"I'm not a hero, Abbs. I did it. I gave them the kids."

"You bastard," Sara breathed; she looked like she was going to hit him; he wished she would. Anything would have been better than the look on her face, on all their faces, the hurt in her voice, the shattered trust, shattered faith.

"No, I don't believe it," Abby clung desperately to the belief that he couldn't possibly be anything but what she wanted him to be. "I _**won't**_ believe it!" she pulled away from Gibbs and ran outside. Bobby followed after her, casting a dark look in Jack's direction as he went. He looked up to Jack just as much as the rest of them…

Jack searched out the one face in the crowd he'd been avoiding, the one pair of eyes he was the most afraid to look into…

"Wh-why Jack?" the thin whisper of Ianto's voice cut through the him. "Why did you do it?"

He closed his eyes, hesitating, wanting to say the right thing, the one thing that would make his partner understand, the thing that might make him stop looking at him like that. Stop hating him. But there wasn't one thing—there wasn't anything. There was no answer. "It's complicated," he finally told him. Told all of them.

"How bloody complicated could it have been, Jack!" Gwen cried out. "You just handed over _twelve children_—and what, hoped for the best! There had to be a reason!"

"It…it was an exchange," he said, sounding even to himself as if he was trying to rationalize it, make it somehow less horrific. Less monstrous. "That's all, just a simple exchange."

"What sort of exchange?" Martha wanted to know. She was looking at him as if didn't recognize him, as if she didn't know him any more. As if she wondered if she ever had. "What was worth the lives of twelve _children?"_

Jack opened his mouth to try and answer her, try and explain, but Clem cut him off: "You are in every nightmare I've ever had!"

"I'm sorry. I'm _really _sorry," he stepped forward. If he could just make him believe… if he could make him understand, make them all understand… he glanced towards Ianto again, but the look on his face was too much to bear.

Moving faster than anyone would have expected, Clem grabbed for the gun at Gwen's side. His hands were shaking but at the range of less than two metres, his aim didn't have to be good. The bullet hit Jack square in the chest…the world went black… there was peace…just a moment of peace…

Every time Jack died, a part of Ianto went with him, as he lost himself to the fear that _this _would be the one time he wouldn't come back again. _Just a bullet_, he told himself, _it was just a bullet this time_. A bullet was nothing. Jack could survive a bullet.

Still, as he clutched onto his cooling, lifeless body, cradling his head in his lap while Gwen and Wendy tried to talk Clem down, he was terrified he'd never see those blue eyes again, see his smile, hear his laugh. A moment ago he had been so angry. He was still angry. But for right now, he just wanted him back.

Clem surrendered the gun to Gwen. He was shaken, appalled at himself for having taken a life. He wasn't a killer, it wasn't in his nature, but he'd finally come face to face with the monster that had haunted him his whole life… he sobbed into her arms.

"Shhh, it's all right, Clem, you'll see," Gwen held onto the frightened old man, looking over his shoulder at Ianto. At Jack.

Ianto met her gaze, shook his head. There was no sign yet. But it was just a bullet… Just one bullet… Suddenly the body in his arms jolted. Jack gasped for air. He clutched wildly onto him like a drowning man clinging to a life preserver. He pulled him closer, held him tighter; Jack had never held onto him so desperately before, there had never been so much fear in his eyes. He was trembling.

"I'm here," the Welshman whispered, softly. "I'll always be here, remember?"

He nodded, but didn't move, just clung to him a few moments more, grateful he hadn't woken up alone. He wouldn't have held it against the younger man if he'd let him lay there alone in the dark, not this time.

Terrified of what he'd just seen, Clem ran away, despite Gwen's assurances that it was all right, perfectly normal, in fact. She went after him.

Gibbs watched Jack Harkness get up. There was red splatter on his chest—blood. A lot of blood. He hadn't wearing a ballistic vest, he hadn't just been knocked down by the impact of the bullet. The bullet had gone through him, through his heart, or at least darned close. He should be dead. He had been dead. Wound like that, that distance, no way it wasn't nearly instantly fatal. He'd presumed that was why the two doctors in the room had stayed where they were…well, that and not wanting to get themselves shot while the gunman was talked down and disarmed. Whatever the guy had been through, it had left him more wound up tight, paranoid. Delusional… except that no had contradicted his story about Harkness being there in nineteen sixty five.

Abby and Chase had come running back just as soon as the gunshot rang out. Gibbs watched her stalk up to Harkness now, anger brewing in her green eyes.

"Tell me there's an explanation, Jack," she ordered, jabbing a finger in his chest, practically where he'd been shot. "Tell me you had a reason. A really, really, really good reason."

She didn't seem the least bit surprised that he was alive and on his feet. In fact, Gibbs reflected, she hadn't reacted much at all when she saw him lying their dead in Ianto Jones' arms. That was very uncharacteristically Abby, unless of course she knew something he didn't.

He turned towards his other former colleague. "McGee, would you care to explain something to me?" he said, because it wasn't just Abby. _No one _else seemed the least bit surprised by Jack Harkness standing back up after having been fatally wounded except for him and the guy who had shot him.

"He can't die," Tim stated simply.

"Come again?"

"He said I can't die," Harkness answered him, crossing the distance between them.

Abby was on his heels, hanging on like a pit bull, refusing to give up until she got her answer. "Jack!"

He turned back to her. "Yes, Abby, I had a reason. There was a new strain of flu, Indonesian flu, it was going to mutate. It would have killed upwards of twenty five million people. They offered us a cure. In exchange for twelve children. We took the deal."

"I can't believe you didn't mention any of this before," said Ianto, his voice a ghost of a whisper. He'd followed him over, but he wasn't looking at him. He didn't seem to be looking at anyone at all.

"I didn't know it was them, I didn't know they'd come back. They didn't talk through the children last time."

Ianto looked up at him, meeting his gaze then. "That _isn't_ what I meant, Jack."

"Wait a minute, what do you mean 'was going to mutate'?" Martha interrupted, her brows furrowed together in a deep scowl. "How could anyone know what was _going_ to happen? You of all people, Jack…"

"There was research to back up the aliens' claims," he told her. "And they delivered the formula for the vaccine. I—I thought—"

"You thought that if you bargained with terrorists they'd just go away and you'd never have to deal with them again?" Gibbs questioned him.

"Yeah. Yeah, I guess I did," he answered. His tone was as bitter as the other's was scathing. In Gibbs' place, he would be saying the same thing and he knew it.

"Did anybody bother to ask why they wanted children?" Sara wanted to know. "They must have come here for a reason, right? Why did they want human children?"

"I—I don't know. It wasn't my call, I didn't make any of the decisions," he told her. "I just delivered them to the designated location."

"Why that group of kids, Jack?" Wendy asked in cool tone.

He swallowed. Her parents had died when she was young, she'd been raised in a state-run home, just like Clem MacDonald and those other children he'd given over to the 456. "Because they wouldn't be missed," he told her the truth he was sure already knew anyway. "Look I know how it sounds! Believe me, I know how it sounds." He looked for… but Ianto was gone. He hadn't even noticed him slip away as the others gathered closer around him, eager to hear his explanation.

He looked at each of their faces, not surprised by what he saw. Disappointment. Disbelief. Anger. Hatred. It was the disappointment that was the worst.

"I didn't make the arrangements," he said again. It didn't excuse his actions, but he at least owed them an explanation for his part in it. "I just did what they asked me to do. I did it because less than fifty years before I'd seen so many people I knew…loved… die of Spanish flu and there had been _noting_ I could do. I thought… I thought it was a fair deal. I thought… twelve…twelve children in exchange for twenty five million people. I'm sorry."

"Who is 'they'? Mickey asked.

"What?"

"You said you took the kids to where they told you to. Who's 'they'?"

"Torchwood…?" Tim asked him, looking as if he was afraid of the answer.

"No," he promised him, wondering if he'd believe him, if any of them would believe anything he told them ever again. "It was the British government. They made the arrangements, contacted me, asked me to deliver the kids. I was just the driver."

"But you agreed." Sara told him. It wasn't a question, it was an accusation. "You knew what was going to happen to them, and you agreed anyway."

"Yeah. Yeah, I agreed anyway. But twenty five million people, Sara…"

She just shook her head, walked away. She didn't go far, but she kept her back to him.

"So that's why you took off outa here, earlier?" Mickey asked him. "Because you'd finally figured it all out. Only instead of tellin' us—"

"Instead of telling you, I tried to deal with it myself. That was a mistake. I'm sorry. I should have told you then that I knew what was going on out there. I just didn't know how."

"Fine, so you're sorry," said Bobby his tone brusque. "That doesn't change the fact that we've got _this _situation to deal with, here, today."

Wendy gave him a look; Tim and several others as well.

"What happened forty years ago... it already happened, it's in the past," the Australian reminded them. "We can't change it or fix it or undo what was done. But we _can _deal with today. We _have _to deal with today." He looked to Jack, "We need to figure out how to stop them, because this time they're asking for a whole lot more than just a dozen children, Jack. That means we need to know everything you do about this '456'."

The Captain nodded. Bobby was right. "I don't know much more than you do already," he told them honestly. "Let me get changed. I'll be right back. I'll tell you everything."

They parted for him, allowed him to pass. No one spoke to him. Looked at him.

He wasn't entirely surprised to find Ianto sitting on one of the crates near where they'd slept last night. He wondered if that was really the last night they were ever going to have together, because despite the fact that the younger man had lain out a fresh shirt for him, a fresh t-shirt, he didn't look up when he approached.

"Thought you might be needing these, Sir," he said as he stood up. His tone was light, brisk. Tepid.

"Please don't, not now."

"It looks like Gwen's gotten Clem calmed down," he observed, glancing back towards the others. He still wouldn't look him in the eye.

Jack looked over his shoulder as he peeled himself out of the blood soaked clothing. "Yeah. Looks like." He slid the fresh t-shirt on over his head. "Ianto, can—can we talk?"

"What's there to talk about, Sir?"

"Please don't—"

"I can't believe that you wouldn't share something like that with me, Jack," he snapped suddenly. "I tell you everything. Sometimes I wonder if you tell me anything."

"I… I tell you more than I've ever told anyone else. I just… how was I supposed to say that forty years ago I sent twelve kids to their deaths?"

"Than how about telling me how you did it, Jack," he suggested. "Tell me how the man I love, the man I have lived with for over two years, was ever capable of… of just following bloody orders! Did you _see_ those things Jack?"

"I never even spoke to them," he admitted softly, ashamed... ashamed of so many things.

"Perhaps you should have."


	20. Day Three, Part Four

**

* * *

**

A/N:

Ok, so there's an overlap here between Days 3 and 4 and some of what I have going on here really went on in the episode labelled Day Four…

As always a HUGE thank you for the reviews! Wow, you guys have really been making my day. I'm honestly so very glad you've been enjoying. I hope you continue to as we head towards the end.

Also another great big thank you to Kitsa for walking through scenes and ideas with me ;-)

* * *

**Chapter Twenty:  
Day Three, Part Four  
& Day Four Part One**

_"Some people are afraid of what they might find if they try to analyze themselves too much,  
but you have to crawl into your wounds to discover where your fears are.  
Once the bleeding starts, the cleansing can begin."_

Tori Amos

* * *

Jack finished buttoning his shirt and rejoined the others, alone. Gwen shot him a questioning look, obviously wondering where Ianto was, but he shook his head. His partner—he rubbed his fingers along the ring wondering how much longer he'd really be wearing it—Ianto had told him he needed to get out, clear his head, he'd be back in a couple of hours, three at the most. Even under the circumstances, he couldn't begrudge the younger man that. And it wasn't that he didn't expect him to come back, it was just that he didn't know what would happen when he did, when this was all over. He didn't know if Ianto would ever look at him and not see a monster… but whatever was going to happen, there was nothing he could do about it now except give his Welshman the space he needed and hope he loved him enough to give him a chance to put things right.

He surveyed people gathered around the unofficial 'command centre' of the warehouse. They'd been talking amongst themselves when he came up, but now there was only silence save for the computers.

They were all there, even Tim and Abby's former boss. At some point, he really was going to have to find out how that happened. In the meantime, however, he crossed the distance between himself and the other man. "I didn't get a chance to introduced myself before," he said to him. "I'm Captain Jack Harkness," he extended his hand, not quite sure…

But Gibbs accepted it. "Leroy Jethro Gibbs," he said. He didn't smile. His hand was firm, calloused; his eyes were the eyes of a man who had seen a lot, at least as much as a man of Gibbs' years could.

"What you said before, about terrorists," Jack told him, "you were right. I should have known they'd be back. People like that always are; it doesn't matter what planet they're from or what species they are, if you give into them once, the will always come back, demanding more."

"I guess some things really are universal," Gibbs mused.

"Yeah. And timeless." He turned and faced the rest of the people gathered there. His team. Gwen was reclined in the sofa, looking angry, hurt. Sara, sat next to her with her arms crossed, waiting for him to say something to redeem himself. Tim was still looking like a dog that had been kicked. Martha…she was as mad as Gwen. She had every right to be. They all did, it was all his fault. Abby… Abby was just waiting, her faith in him cracked but not shattered. His little optimist. He smiled; she smiled back.

Jack let his gaze drift past her towards Mickey… Bobby… it was hard to tell what either of them were thinking. Wendy looked like she'd been betrayed. She had been. She had been an orphan too once. It could have been here… if the 456 had come twenty years ago instead of forty, it could have been her.

Rhys and Nerys were looking at him too, waiting. They weren't part of his team, but they were watching him just like the others, wanting him to say something, anything that they could use grab onto that might make them willing to believe in him again.

Even Clem MacDonald, once just a face on a bus, now a name, a real person, looked like he might be willing to latch onto something, if someone offered him anything worth believing in.

"I'm sorry," Jack told them all. "I should have trusted you. I should have told you. I was afraid of… of telling you the truth, of admitting my role in what happened forty years ago. I thought I could fix it myself. I thought if I spoke to Frobisher…" he sighed. He'd expected Frobisher to cave, to give in, to realize he was in over his head. "I was wrong. He doesn't want our help and he's taken the steps necessary to keep me out of it."

"What kind of 'steps'?" Bobby wanted to know.

"It doesn't matter..."

"Jack," Gwen stretched his name out into two syllables.

"It _doesn't _matter," he repeated. "I'm not staying out of it. _We're_ not staying out of it. Bobby, you were right," he said, catching and holding the blond's gaze a moment. He shoved his hands into his trouser pockets to keep himself from playing with his wedding band—or at least to keep the others from noticing that he was. "I can't undo the past or change the things I've done. I can't go back. Believe me, I would if I could," he looked to Clem. "There are so many things I would do differently if I had the chance to do them over again."

"If it wasn't you, it woulda been somebody else," Rhys surprised him by saying. "They would've found someone else to do their dirty work for 'em. You know it," he said to the sharp glower Gwen sent in his direction. "At least this way we know what we're up against, yeah?"

There was a long moment of silence. Finally Gwen nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, ok."

Sounds coming from the computer drew their attention…there was movement… it looked as if Frobisher and the others were being called back into the room with 456.

"Mickey, are you still recording all this?" Gwen asked him.

He rolled his chair over to his computer. "Yeah, we're still recording. Why?"

"We need every second of this," she slid in next to him to watch the proceedings.

"What for?" asked Tim.

"My guess," Gibbs told him, "Is that this stuff is going to make great leverage," he shot a look over towards Jack; it wasn't quite a smile, but it was close enough. He nodded in return.

"Tim, you can read short hand, yeah?" Gwen asked.

"Yeah, yeah, sure," he joined them at the screen. "Are they going back in?"

"Looks like," said Mickey.

"You read short hand McGee?" asked Gibbs.

"Timmy has all kinds of talents," Abby grinned.

Jack's eyebrows shot up; Gibbs scowled. Tim blushed.

"What, I'm just saying…."

……………………………………………………..

"Ianto," Sarah Jane Smith opened her back door and ushered him into the house. "What are you doing here?"

"Everything's all right," he was quick to assure her, not wanting to panic her any more than his unexpected appearance at her door must have already done.

"It hardly looks it," she replied as she looked him over. He'd been crying recently. "What happened?"

He hesitated… he was about to start attempting to explain when Jason came into the kitchen. Less than a heartbeat later, he had his arms flung around the Welshman's waist and was holding on tight.

Then… "Papa…?" he looked around. Fear seemed to overwhelm the child.

"He's fine," Ianto told him. "He couldn't come with me but he's fine, I promise," Ianto told him, desperately hanging onto his own composure. Ella was just behind Jason.

He knelt down to the boy's level. "Your Papa said to give you this," he placed a soft kiss to his forehead. "And to tell you that he'll see you just as soon as he can. To tell you how much he loves you and misses you." Jack had told him no such thing, but it couldn't hurt to lie. It was what Jack would have said, if he'd told him where he was going. _God, how can I know him so well, but still not know if I know him at all?_ He wondered.

"How come he didn't come?" Jason wanted to know.

"He couldn't get away, but everything's fine, I promise," he repeated, wondering just which one of them he was really trying to convince. He glanced up at Jack's mother; she looked worried. "Jack is fine," he told her in the most credible tone he could muster. He might have been willing to tell Sarah Jane why he'd left, but he wasn't going to tell Ella. He suspected that she might not be as willing to forgive her son as Sarah Jane would probably be—or at the very least it would hurt Jack more to have his mother's animosity right now. He also suspected that Ella didn't believe him about everything being fine.

"Jason, it's well past bedtime," she held her hand out to her grandson. "Go back on upstairs…"

"But…"

"Go on," Ianto told him. "I'll be up to tuck you in, in a bit if you like."

"Will you read to me?"

"Jason…" Ella began to protest, but the Welshman shook his head.

"Of course I will," he said. "Pick something out and I'll be up in a few minutes," he captured the boy in another warm hug, bringing him in tight. Clem and his friends had been just about Jason's age when… "I love you," he whispered, choking back another sob. Nobody would miss them, that's what Jack had said. Nobody would miss Clement MacDonald or those other children. Nobody would ever know they were gone.

But that was a lie. Even if they didn't have mothers and fathers, families, who would go looking for them, they were somebody's future husbands. Future wives. Future mothers and fathers… future grandparents. All of that had been lost because…because Jack… following bloody orders. When in his life had Jack ever followed bloody orders!

He pressed a quick kiss to Jason's temple and let him go. Ella was watching him. She scooted the boy up the stair and asked him point blank what had happened, why he had turned up like he had without any word of warning, looking as if he'd been dragged through the ringer.

"It's… there are things going on down at Whitehall," he admitted, reluctantly. Somehow in the last two days he'd forgotten how observant, how tenacious, Ella could be.

"Do you know what's happening with the children?" she pressed him.

"I… yes," he said, looking from his mother in law to Sarah Jane and back again. He couldn't lie to them. He couldn't just pretend not to know what was being demanded of them. "The aliens say they want ten percent of the Earth's children." Even saying it aloud didn't make it easier to believe.

Both women looked as shocked and stricken—as sick at the thought of it—as he felt. "No one will ever agree to that," said Sarah Jane. "The British government…the world… they won't even consider it! UNIT…"

"I don't know where UNIT is in all this," he told her honestly, his tone betraying his lack of faith in the world's governments to stand up and do what any ordinary citizen should believe was right, to fight, to not give in. "We've only seen a representative from the Home Office, a man called John Frobisher," he told her because if anything happened to him, to the rest of them, someone else had to know. Someone besides Torchwood had to know what had happened over the course of the last seventy two hours. "He's been chosen to be some sort of…of middle man, between the governments of the world and the aliens, the 456."

"I don't understand. Where's the Prime Minister, the United Nations?"

He shrugged, "I don't know, Sarah Jane. I don't know what's happening out there."

"But they're not seriously considering…? Ianto…"

"They hadn't come to a conclusion when I left," he told her, "but I think they're going to do it." _Just like they did forty years ago…_ only this time there was no Spanish flu, no pandemic. This time there were only threats. _Terrorists,_ just like Gibbs said. "I believe they're going to give them what they want. They're going give them the children they've asked for.."

"What about Jack?" Ella asked him. "Isn't this what you people do?"

"He…they're monitoring the situation, discussing options. That's all I know," he insisted when she gave him a questioning glare.

Reluctantly, Ella nodded accepting that it really was all he could say, thanked him and excused herself.

The young Welshman swallowed and leant against the kitchen counter feeling as if the wind had been knocked out of him. He was sure he was going to be sick. They were really going to do it, they were going to hand over the kids, just like they did before…

Sarah Jane pressed a cool glass of water into his hands. All the colour had drained from his face; she doubted she was fairing much better. "There's something more you're not saying, isn't there?" she prompted after a moment of silence had passed between them.

He looked at her. There was no denying it. "Yeah. But it's not important," he lied. He couldn't tell her about Jack's part it in. He'd thought he could, but it was bad enough…_bad enough I hate him right now, he doesn't need anyone else's animosity… _"I just… I needed to see Seren and Jason, that's all."

"Why didn't Jack come with you?"

"How could he? Dashing hero, fearless leader…all that rubbish." He drained the last of the water and set the glass on the counter behind him.

"Ianto, whatever it is…"

He shook his head. "It doesn't matter."

She gave him a last, long, appraising look, but then let it go. "Harry should be here in by morning and I can tell you he won't stand for any of this. Neither will I. We will stand up to them, Ianto. This 456, we'll show them what the human race is really made of."

He forced a tight lipped smile. "Of course we will," his voice sounded hollow even to him.

"Why don't go tuck Jason in, peek in Seren. We can talk later if you feel like. Go on, up the stair, first door to your right is Jason's room, second one past that is Seren's."

He nodded, straightened himself up. "Thank you. For everything."

"I haven't done much. Not yet, anyway."

………………………………………………………..

In the warehouse, the rest of Torchwood, Jethro Gibbs, Rhys Williams, Nerys Jones, and Clem MacDonald gathered around the computer monitor, watching as Frobisher asked the 456 for a 'point of clarification', asked them what exactly it was they wanted with human children.

The alien screeched and banged into the glass, squirting more green slime over the inside of the tank.

"It knows I'm here," Clem yelped, ducking down further behind the desk. "It knows! Turn it off, please!"

"It can't know you're here, Clem," Wendy assured him. "You're safe, we're miles away, remember?"

Nerys managed to hold down her gorge, even when the thing squealed again, but only because there wasn't anything left to come up anyway.

"But why does it keep doing that?" Mickey wondered aloud. "Is it just angry?"

"I don't think so," Chase leant in closer. "It's almost like…like an involuntary reaction…?" he shot a questioning look towards Martha.

"What, you mean like a tic…or a convulsion or something?" Mickey asked him.

"Yeah, exactly like that," said Martha. "But why is it having convulsions?"

"Well…" Sara's tone was thoughtful as she joined them, "What causes humans to have convulsions?"

"Is that important?" Rhys wanted to know.

"Right now everything's important," Martha told him.

Tim leant in when Lois started writing again. "'Somebody is watching,'" he translated the shorthand.

"See! It knows! It knows!"

"They're talking about the other camera, that's all," Gwen told him. "We need to listen now, all right?"

Frobisher was talking again, telling the 456 that the Prime Minister was watching, that he needed to know why it wanted the children.

"If we could get a sample of that goo…" Abby began.

Tim gave her a look.

"I'm just saying, if I could analyze it…"

"Not gonna happen," Jack cut her off.

"She's right, Jack," said Martha, "if we could get in there somehow…"

"It's out of the question—end of discussion," he added, when it looked like Sara was going to join the argument. "Now quiet down, all of you," he ordered. He stood back, his arms crossed over his chest, watching, as they sent a cameraman into the chamber.

They watched together in escalating, visceral, horror as the creature revealed itself, let them see the child that was attached to it by means unknown… the child blinked.

And then the 456 gave their ultimatum, deliver the ten percent or they would wipe out the entire human race…

Jack found them all looking at him, waiting for him to tell them what to do. Ready to do it, no matter what it was. "There's only one way to deal with terrorists," he said, meeting Tim and Abby's old boss's gaze across the room. "We stand up and we fight." He reached for his coat. "I have to make a call," he told them. "Get organized. I'll be back in an hour—and Gwen, if my little chat with Frobisher doesn't go the way I hope will," if the idiot continued to refuse to see how much he needed them, "we're going to need Lois to do us one more favour. I hope she's up for it, because it's going to be a big one."

………………………………………………………….

Ianto closed the book and tucked the blanket up around the sleeping child. Jason had been out cold since half way through the story, but he'd finished it anyway. He reached over and turned out the light on the bedside table, and slipped out of the room. He'd already been there longer than he'd planned…he just wanted a few minutes with his daughter, then he could go back, figure out what he was going to say to Jack.

Seren was fast asleep when he crept into her room. He eased her up out of the make-shift crib anyway. She fussed, but only for a second, until he began singing to her. According to his mam, it was his favourite lullaby from when he was a babe.

He spoke to her the same his mam had always spoken to him, in Welsh, telling her how much he loved her, how much her Papa loved her, because he knew that's what Jack would have wanted him to do. He gave her a kiss from the older man, then one from himself. He carried her over to the chair in the corner of the room and sat, staring into the darkness while his daughter dozed off in his arms.

He could close his eyes and call to mind the memory of an alien sky, early morning… behind him the balcony door opened…Jack wrapped his arms around him, pulled him tight against his swollen midsection…

"_I'm doing this for you, you know."_

"_What?"_

"_I just… I know this is weird for you. I don't… I wish I knew what you were thinking when you look at me like that, Yan." _

"_It's not weird. Well… all right, it__** is**__ weird," he admitted. He couldn't lie, not when Jack was looking at him like that. "But that doesn't mean it it's not beautiful. It is beautiful, Cariad. You're… you're beautiful." He moved in closer, resting one hand on the little bulge. "In there is something beautiful."_

He gazed down at his sleeping daughter. She was so very beautiful.

He remembered the first moment he saw her, the look on Jack's face when he placed her on his chest. It wasn't the way he looked at Seren, his gaze full of awe and wonder… full of love…_it was me. He looked at me and I knew how much he loved me. _In that moment he felt so connected to Jack, like everything was just exactly the way it was supposed to be. He would give anything to feel that way again.

* * *

**Day Four**, **Part One**

* * *

Ianto didn't remember falling asleep in the chair, but he woke with a start when Sarah Jane slipped quietly into the room.

"_Shite,"_ he swore, half under his breath; the sun was already up. His voice disturbed Seren, waking her. Reminding him why he'd come in the first place… "Shhh," he soothed her. "I'm here, beautiful…" she settled, again, but he knew it wouldn't last long. He turned to his host: "Why didn't you wake me?"

"I'm sorry," Sarah Jane apologized as she lifted the baby up from his arms so he could get up. "But you two looked so content together."

"Jack…"

"I called him last and told him know you were here. Safe. Actually, when I told him Harry was on his way, he suggested I find some way to keep you here, so you could bring him up to speed when he arrived. I wasn't sure how I was going to manage that until I found you up here asleep," she cast a slight smile in his direction. Then, "He sounded worried about you, Ianto."

He hauled himself to his feet. "Jack always worries about me."

"I suppose that's because he loves you."

He didn't respond, he just reached for Seren. "Here…I've got her," he took her back. She was in need of a diaper change and starting to give him the look he recognized as the first warning that breakfast had better be on its way shortly or she would let the entire neighbourhood know of her displeasure.

Sarah Jane leant against the doorframe while Ianto took care of his daughter. "I don't think I've ever seen parents more devoted than you and Jack," she said in an idle sort of tone that. All it did was make it clear she was bringing the other man's name into it intentionally.

The Welshman remained mute.

"Ianto…"

He turned to look at her over his shoulder. His expression was difficult to read. "Has…has anyone ever done something you thought might be so unforgivable that…that you weren't sure… you didn't know if you were ever going to be able to look at them and not see what they'd done?"

She mulled the thought over a moment before answering. "Yes, I suppose so."

He finished getting Seren cleaned up and got her some clean clothes to wear out of the bag they'd packed for her. "What did you do?"

She considered another long moment, before finally answering. "I suppose when something like that happens you have a choice, don't you?"

"What do you mean?"

"You have to decide which is worse, forgiving someone for whatever it is that they did, living with it, no matter how unforgivable it seems—or not forgiving them and giving up your future together."

Ianto looked down at the child in his arms…her face… bright blue eyes looking up at him. Her Papa's eyes. His smile. God, she was going to be a handful someday…

He looked up at Sarah Jane. "He told you, didn't he?"

"All he said was that he'd done something he wasn't proud of, something he hadn't told anybody about, not even you. He didn't say what, and I didn't ask," she clarified. "But he said that he wouldn't blame you if you left him over it, so I can only imagine it must be awfully bad."

"It is."

"Do you still love him?"

"With all my heart," he told her without hesitation.

She smiled. "Well then. It sounds to me like you have your answer."

"But how…?"

"I don't know. But I know you would be miserable without him, Ianto. He'd be miserable without you."

…………………………………………………………

Sara found Jack outside staring out over the city, just…just watching. No one had said anything to him about Ianto not coming back last night.

She cleared her throat; Jack looked up.

"We're almost ready," she told him.

"Good," he said, pulling himself to his feet.

"Jack…for what it's worth, I understand why you did what you did with those kids. I… all of us, we'd like to be able to say that we would never sacrifice a single person, a single child to those things, but… faced with what you were faced with… no one can say what they would or wouldn't have done. No one can fault you for your part in what happened forty years ago."

"All this time, my only consolation was that the deal seemed to work. They gave us the vaccine. They only wanted twelve…it seemed like a bargain." He closed his eyes for a long moment before facing her again. "Come on. Let's go."

"Jack," she caught his arm. "What happened back then, it wasn't your fault. You didn't make the decision to hand over those kids. It wasn't even your decision _to_ make."

"But I should have stopped it." Ianto was right, he'd been a coward, a stronger man, a better person, would have stood up to them. He'd just… seen so much death all ready. If he could prevent… but that wasn't an excuse.

"Rhys is right, Jack. They just would have gotten someone else to do it. If they had, we wouldn't have any idea what we were up against."

He smiled. Somehow that wasn't much consolation. But hearing the words… "Thank you," he said, even though those two words couldn't begin to express how much it meant to him that his team didn't hate him, that they hadn't abandoned him even when maybe they should have. He just wished he knew… "I'll be there in a minute," he told her. " Get everybody ready to go."

Sara nodded and headed back inside. Jack reached into his pocket for his mobile and dialled Sarah Jane's number, regardless of the risk of them being able to track him by his mobile signal. In another thirty minutes, it wouldn't matter if they traced the call or not, and more than anything else in the world—even if he still hated him—he needed to hear Ianto's voice just one more time, in case things went horribly wrong in the next two hours…


	21. Day Four, Part Two

**A/N:**

As always, thank you for the reviews/fave/alert listings on this… and again, I've noticed a few new favourite author/author alert listings… I suppose the latter is the best way to keep track of me since I've got so darned many crossovers, but I really, really want to say thank you for the fave author/author alerts. I appreciate everybody reading this, including those who don't review because sometimes you just don't have anything to say, but I would be lying if I tried to say that those "favourite authors" didn't make me smile. Thank you.

And last but not least, another huge thank you to Kitsa for helping me walk through a lot of this.

* * *

**Chapter Twenty One:  
Day Four Part Two**

"_The world is not dangerous because of those who do harm but because of those who look at it without doing anything" _

Albert Einstein

* * *

Ianto Jones stepped out of the shower just as Luke Smith opened the bathroom door. He pulled a towel hastily around his waist. The teenager didn't seem the least bit uncomfortable with having walked in on him, except to offer up a mild apology for startling him.

"I found a clean shirt in the attic… not sure where she got it from, but Mum says it's not alien or anything," he went on, handing it over.

Ianto grimaced at the thought of an alien dress shirt…but it appeared to be made of perfectly ordinary cotton, and was probably just something Sarah Jane had picked up along her travels. He thanked Luke for his thoughtfulness. He was glad when the boy departed. Even after living with Jack and his mother… he felt another stab of guilt. He should be there, with him, with the rest of them…

"Ianto," that time it was Sarah Jane at the door. Something in her tone, however, stopped him from being overly irritated. "Ianto, you've got a telephone call. It's Jack."

His heart dropped through the cellar floor. He re-wrapped the towel around his waist and opened the door enough to take the cordless receiver from her, mumbling his thanks. "Hello?" he spoke into the phone; his voice sounded ragged even to his own ears. Jack would never have risked a phone call unless something had happened, something important. Something bad. He shouldn't have run away… "Jack?" he said, when there was only silence on the other end.

"Yeah. I'm here. Ianto… please… don't talk, just listen, just give me two minutes," he asked. "I know you may never forgive me for what I did in nineteen sixty five. I'm not asking you to. I just want you to know that no matter what happens today, I love you. I will always love you. I won't ever forget you."

With each word that came over the line, he felt himself growing heavier. Colder. More afraid. "What are you planning, Jack? What's happened, what are you going to do?"

"I tried," his tone was plaintive. "I called Frobisher and I tried to reason with him. Hell, I even tried threatening him. I told him we could fix this, we could work together, that he didn't have to give in to the demands of interplanetary terrorists. But he wouldn't listen. He…he just wouldn't listen to me."

Ianto felt his jaw go slack. They were really going to do it…the Prime Minister, the leaders of the other nations of the world… they were all… "When?" he asked.

"Tomorrow. They're going to hand over ten percent of the earth's children to the 456 tomorrow."

He sat down on the edge of the tub to keep himself from falling down. Remy… Cade's kids… Gavin's… "Jack…"

"I'm going to stop them, Ianto. I'm going to fix the mistake I made back in nineteen sixty five. I won't let them take any more children. Not one more."

"That wasn't your fault, Jack. Nineteen sixty five—"

"It _was _my fault. You're right. I should have stood up them. Instead…instead I helped them. I gave them those kids and now they're back for more."

"Jack—" but arguing with him would only waste time he knew they didn't have. "What do you want me to do?"

"Meet with Harry. Fill him in. New information is already on the way, everything we've got. If… if we fail today…if I can't stop them, it'll be up to you. I—I'm sorry."

"You won't fail, Jack. You never fail."

"Yes I do. I have to go, they're waiting—"

"Jack! Wait," he cried, needing him to hang on the line just a few more seconds. "I love you. I love you with all my heart, Jack, so you come back to me. No matter what else you do, you come back to me."

There was a brief pause on the other end, a ragged intake of breath. "I will. I promise."

Ianto sat a long moment after he hung up. The call had probably been traced… that meant… it meant that whatever Jack was up to, it didn't matter that they could find him…Sarah Jane… the kids…

He dialled his mother's phone…no answer. With trembling fingers, he punched in the numbers for Gavin's and Trea's house.

"Hello—"

"Gavin," he breathed his brother's name with a sigh of relief.

"Ianto—where the devil are you? Where's Nerys?"

"Never mind that—"

"Never mind? We're going out of our minds here! That Mickey fellow scared the wits out of Mam just before him and Nerys took off—"

"Gavin, shut up!" He snapped. "Something's happening—

"No kidding—"

"Gavin! Listen! Right now, in London, there's a representative from another planet, an alien—"

"Have you gone daft?"

"They've been here before Gav. They've been here before and the British Government handed over twelve children to them. It happened in nineteen sixty five. The children went missing from Holly Tree Lodge in Scotland—look it up if you don't believe me. Now they're back, the aliens are back and they want more kids—millions more."

There was only stunned silence on the end of the line before his brother finally was able to find the words to ask how he knew all that.

"I work for Torchwood. This is what we do. We deal with things like this. Only this time…this time the government shut us out, went so far as to try and assassinate us to keep us away from what they're doing."

"The bomb—Cardiff Bay—"

"That was meant for us…but that doesn't matter, not any more. Gavin, listen. They're going to give in. The government. They are going to hand over millions of children to an alien species."

"What—why—?"

"I don't know. Nobody does and it doesn't matter. I just need you to listen to me. Don't let anyone near your kids, near Remy, near Cade's kids. Keep them home from school. Don't let them out of your sight and do not let anybody take them away from you, no matter what. The same goes for whoever's listening in on the wire—I know you're there, but if you've got children or grandchildren, you need to listen to me. The government is going to give into the demands of these aliens and hand over millions of children unless we find some way to stop them. So forget the official secrets act and tell every parent you know. If we give into them this time, there's no telling when they'll be back or how many more they'll ask for the next time. We will never be safe if we don't stop them now."

"Ianto—"

"I have to go, Gavin. Hopefully I'll see you again when this is all over. If not… just… give Mam a kiss for me. Tell her I love her." He hung up before his brother could say another word, hoping he'd made the right decision to call.

They had to have a tap on Gav's phone…Cade's, Dafydd's, his mother's… but maybe, just maybe, someone who was listening had kids of their own, and maybe they were just as scared of losing them he was of losing his nieces, nephews…his daughter… because if they gave in this time, the 456 _would _be back. They would never leave the earth in peace.

By the time he got downstairs, he discovered that Harry Sullivan had arrived—but not alone.

……………………………………………………………..

Jack took what he hoped was not his last look around at the faces of the men and women gathered around him. His team. His friends. A couple of people he'd only just met… Jethro Gibbs. Clem MacDonald. Both of them were brave men, each in their own way. Each and every one of them there were amongst the bravest, noblest people he knew. He only hoped he could make up for what he'd done, fully deserve their respect and the faith they were still willing to place in him.

"I don't know what's going to happen today," he told them, "but I do know that we will not give in. We will stand up and we will find a way and we will stop them, no matter what it takes." He let his gaze fall to Ianto's sister. To Clem. To Wendy. To each of the others gathered there, watching him. "Even one more child is one child too many. I have no doubt that lives are going to be lost before this is all over, but no more children will be taken from this world." He slid his thumb over the ring on his finger… "Let's go," he said.

"Harkness," said Gibbs, calling him over as the rest of the group started to move out. "Just in case I don't get the chance later—it's been an honour. I had some doubts at first," he admitted. "But from what I can see you've got a hell of team here. You can tell a lot a bout a man by the kind of people who are willing to follow him into a fight."

Jack flashed a wry grin, "I could say the same to you," he glanced towards Abby and Tim.

Gibbs followed his gaze, smiled. "McGee—kiss your girl already and let's go!" he wasn't half as irritated at the younger man as he sounded.

Tim blushed. "Abbs…"

"Just come back to me in one piece, Timothy," she told him. "That's an order."

"Yes, Ma'am," he pressed a kiss to her lips, no longer caring that Gibbs was watching them. Him.

Martha closed the distance between herself and Jack, Gibbs.

"Martha…" the Captain began.

"Don't worry, I'll look out for him, for you," she teased in Gibbs' direction. "Wouldn't want the Americans getting mad at you for getting one of their people killed over here."

Jack flashed over one of those smiles of his and went to find Wendy; she'd just pulled Bobby aside, so he gave them a couple of seconds before going over.

"I know," said Bobby, before his girlfriend could speak. " 'Be careful', remember that you can take a bullet but I can't," his tone was playful, mostly to cover up how scared he was. For her, for him…for all of them.

She favoured him with a soft smile. "I was going to tell you that I love you, but that'll do too." She pressed a kiss to his lips. "And be careful."

"I will. You too."

"Always."

"Wendy…" Jack called over, then. "Ready?"

"As I'll ever be," she gave Bobby's hand a last quick squeeze before following after the Captain. The warehouse was almost deserted.

Gwen looked to Rhys. "You too, you have to go," she told him.

"You're sure you're not just trying to get rid of me, get me out of harm's way—afraid I can't hack it?" he wanted to know.

"Don't be silly," she told him, pressing a kiss to her husband's lips, unable to keep her hands from trembling.

"Gwen…"

"I love you too. Now go on—keep Nerys safe," she added. "I'm counting on you. We all are."

A few feet away, Mickey pressed his laptop into Ianto's sister's hands. On it was every second of footage they'd recorded so far, every scrap of information they had on the 456. The software was still running, still recording everything going on in secret, behind closed doors. Everything that was said, everything the Prime Minister and his aids did to cover their own asses while hanging everybody else out to dry—everything they would need to ruin Greene's career and the careers of everyone connected to him should it come down to it.

Nerys clutched the laptop to her chest. "Why can't I stay here with you?" she asked Mickey.

"Because it's too dangerous," he told her the truth.

"It's not going to be any less dangerous out there."

"No, it won't, but it won't take them long to find this place now. When they do, there are going to be troops and guns and it's not going to be safe. Out there you have a chance. More than that, you have a job to do."

"Mickey… I—I love you."

"I love you too," he told he. "Now go on," he urged, wondering if he was ever going to see her again, wondering if they were really going to be able to pull this off because at the moment, the odds didn't look good…

.

Half way around the world Las Vegas, Nevada, Greg Sanders and Nick Stokes had just received electronic copies of footage that would, when they got around to opening their email, shock and horrify them… shock horrify the whole world, should they decide to share it. Because even if they did back down, if the Prime Minister, the Home Office and whoever else it was who was behind the effort to block Torchwood, even if they finally backed down and let them do their jobs, certain truths needed to be made public. It wasn't just the British government who was culpable. The United States and every other government that had agreed to sit back and let someone else do the talking, someone else make the deals—they were all responsible.

Sara sat back in her chair looking around the now nearly empty Hub 2. It was just her, Gwen, Mickey and Clem, waiting.

………………………………………………………..

Ianto snuggled his daughter to his chest and pressed a kiss to her forehead. "I'm sorry, Little One," he whispered to her. "I know it seems like I got here, and here I am sending you off again," he fought to maintain control of his emotions, of his fear that he would never see her again, never see Jason… Jack. Even before he told Sarah Jane about calling his brother, the plans had already been made to get the kids and Ella some place safer because her house was about to be a part of the front line.

"I love you," he whispered to Seren. "Your Papa and I both love you so much…" swallowing back the tears, he kissed her and handed her over to Ella and knelt down to Jason's level. "We love you too," he told him, as he wrapped his arms tight around the boy's shoulders. "We both love you so very, very much." He pressed a kiss to Jason's forehead. "I promise, we'll all be together again soon."

Jason held on tight a moment more before releasing him; there were tears in his eyes. "I love you to," he said. He looked like he was about to say more, but Ella's hand on his shoulder stilled him.

"I will look after them," K-9 assured Ianto in a mechanical voice that the Welshman always found disconcertingly antiquated sounding and not at all like the sort of voice that should be coming from a well-armed super computer on wheels, even if somebody had decided that it ought to look like a boxy metal dog. The voice sounded like something created the sound effects department an under budgeted nineteen seventies science fiction film.

Just the same, he reached over and patted the mechanical creature's head. "I know you will, K-9. Sarah Jane's right, you're a good dog."

"The _best _dog," she told him, reaching down and giving him a pat herself. Then she gave Luke another hug and kiss on the cheek. "Be careful," she told him. "And do as the Brigadier says," she cast an affectionate glance towards the older, white-haired gentleman into whose care she was entrusting her family, Ianto's family. If anybody could keep them safe, it was Sir Alistair Gordon Lethbridge-Stewart. "Thank you, again," she told him.

"Nonsense. It's the least I could do. Come along now boys," he gestured Luke and Jason towards his car.

Before she followed the children, Ella leant in and kissed her son in law on the cheek. "I know we've had disagreements in the past, Ianto. But I am so very glad my son has you. I'm glad you have each other."

"Thank you," he whispered; Harry Sullivan helped him load their gear into the boot; there wasn't much, just a few bags.

He came around to where the retired Brigadier was standing and extended his hand. "Sir Alistair, thank you."

"You just do what you need to do, Mr Jones, you and that Captain Harkness of yours," he said. "Rest assured that your children will be safe with me. Harry," he shook the hand of the other man as well. "Give those idiots down at Whitehall a good what for," he instructed. "As soon as I get everybody safe and sound, I'm going to start making calls and find out what in the devil UNIT has been doing through this whole affair," he promised them; by time he was done he intended to make certain that several people were out of jobs and facing criminal charges. He too had a copy of the proceedings of the first two days and he wasn't pleased by what he'd seen. What he hadn't seen.

He leant in and kissed Sarah Jane on the cheek. "Take care of yourself, my dear," he gave her that worried look he always gave her when he knew she was about to go off and do something dangerous.

"I will. I've got Harry and Ianto too look after me," she assured him.

Moments after the Brigadier pulled away, Bobby and Abby slipped into her back garden.

Abby snagged Ianto immediately into a fierce hug. "I was so worried about you!" she told him.

"I know, I'm sorry. Just please tell me Jack hasn't gone off to do something foolish."

"I think that depends on how you define 'foolish'," said Bobby.

"Let's get back inside," Sarah Jane suggested in a sensible tone. She had the feeling this wasn't going to be a short conversation; she wanted to know just exactly what Jack was planning herself.

"Bobby, Abby, this is my good friend Commodore Harry Sullivan," she introduced them as they went. "Harry and I used to travel with the Doctor together. But more importantly, Harry is a Deputy Director for MI-5. Now…let's get set up in the attic," she looked at Abby in particular, "because there is one more 'person' I think you very much need to meet."

………………………………………………………………

Up until four days ago, Lois Habiba had been nothing more significant that a junior PA, a temp hired on to assist the Home Office during a computer update. Today, she was a revolutionary.

"Yeah, you and whose army?" Rick Yates challenged her, his tone scathing, incredulous.

Lois held her chin up just a little higher and met his gaze dead on when she told him exactly whose side she was on:

"Torchwood."


	22. Day Four, Part Three

**A/N:**

**LizzieHR**—thank you for the "Britpick". I'll fix it as soon as I go into the site to get this posted. ;-) And yes, the teams are intentionally set up the way they are, spreading them so that if any one team is caught the others have equal chances of succeeding with the mission by separating the doctors, the computer people, etc.

………

Once again, I've taken a bit of artistic license, this time with technology because I wanted all parties involved to _hear _what was going on. And once again, I would like to offer up my thanks to Kitsa for her input. ;-)

In this one, I've also tried to worm my way into Johnson's head a little to sort her out. On Day One, she's little more than a cold blooded killer, but in Day Four, we see that she does have a conscience (kudos to Liz May Brice, what a fantastic actress!) What we didn't get was much reconciliation between the woman who shot Rapesh in cold blood and the woman who appeared to have genuine sympathy towards Alice, who eventually helped Jack…albeit with the same heavy-handed efficiency as always.

* * *

**Chapter Twenty Two:  
Day Four Part Three**

"_Courage is what it takes to stand up and speak;  
courage is also what it takes to sit down and listen."_

Winston Churchill

* * *

By the time Lois had delivered Torchwood's ultimatum—a very simple diktat that if the Prime Minister didn't allow Jack Harkness access to the alien, his team would go public with every single word that had been spoken in the Gold Command meeting—Abby had her laptop set up in Sarah Jane's attic so that she and the Hub 2 were linked via webcam. More importantly, however, they could both see everything Lois was doing and saying, everything every self centred politician in that room said and did to cover their own skins. If either Gwen or Abby of them were suddenly arrested (or worse, killed), the other could continue to communicate with Lois, would be able to tell her that there was a team on stand by to extract her if it became necessary.

Bobby handed Sarah Jane the disk with the data from the tests that had been run on the children back at Princeton Plainsboro on Day One. It was hard to believe this had started less than a week ago… four days. Four days and every elected official in the world was throwing up their hands, giving up, without a fight. "I don't know any more how much this will help," the Australian told her. He was exhausted to the bone, they all were, but they weren't done fighting. They would never be done fighting, not while they were still alive.

"We'll get this loaded in and see what Mr Smith makes of it," she told him. "Every little bit of information helps, Bobby," she assured him.

"Let me have a look," Harry leant in, donning a pair of half moon glasses. "I started out my career as a medical doctor, you know. Maybe if we put our heads together—"

"Whoa!" Abby cried out suddenly when Mr Smith, the semi-sentient alien computer in Sarah Jane's attic, linked itself…himself… into her computer and split the screen to display a satellite feed to her. "This is too cool!" she grinned. It faded in an instant. "Ut-oh—Gwen, you have company," she said into the webcam. "It looks like…two jeeps just pulled up outside the warehouse. They're armed… guys, this is it. Please be careful!" She hated this part, she hated not being there, not being able to help, having to just watch it all from a distance. A sturdy hand on her shoulder brought a modicum of comfort; it was Harry Sullivan. She favoured him with a tight lipped smile.

On the screen, Gwen nodded, acknowledging the warning. Truthfully, the timing couldn't have been more perfect. Everybody should be in place.

She leaned back in her chair and looked to the others; Clem was the only one who appeared worried (panicked was more like it), but that didn't mean that, perfect timing or not, Sara and Mickey weren't just as nervous as he was. Abby was right. This was it.

"Face down on the floor, all of you!" a female voice boomed through the quiet warehouse from behind them. "I said face down on the floor! Hands on your heads!" she ordered again when the remained seated.

At the second command, Clem MacDonald stood, upturning his chair in his haste to comply. The other three remained where they were, turning slowly to face the intruders.

"Did you hear me!" the woman bellowed.

"Of course we did," Mickey replied. "You're shouting. 'Sides, it's not like we weren't expecting you."

"What?" she seemed taken aback.

Gwen favoured her with a lazy smile. "Traced our calls, have you?" she inquired. "Why don't you come over here and see what else we've been up to?" she invited. "You might learn a thing or two about the people you've been working for."

Johnson edged forwards slowly, her gaze darting around the warehouse, as if she was expecting a trap. "Where are the others? There should be more of you."

"They left," Gwen told her, her tone still calm. Friendly. "I said we were expecting you, not that we were going to make it easy for you to arrest us. Come on. We're unarmed."

Sara got out of her seat, moving slowly, and helped the frightened old man back to his feet. "It's all right, Clem. They're not going to shoot anybody."

"Don't count on it," the other growled. "I should shoot you all right now for resisting arrest."

Sara flashed a half-smile. "But you won't."

"How can you be so sure?"

"You haven't yet. That means you're at least a little but curious to see what we have. Or maybe you just want to know why John Frobisher wants us dead so badly."

"You must have read our files," said Gwen. "Former police woman, a couple of former forensics investigators, NCIS special agent, a doctor from New Jersey—Mickey here," she winked in his direction. He shot over a sour look. Gwen continued. "Not exactly your typical terrorists, yeah?"

"Anyone can turn against their country—half of you lot aren't even British."

"Is that what they told you?" Mickey asked her, his tone incredulous. "That we're subversives?"

"Aren't you?" she asked. According to Frobisher, Jack Harkness and Torchwood were anti-government, anti-establishment; they played by their own rules, had done, ever since Harkness took over the Cardiff branch in 2000.

"Have a seat and decide for yourself," Gwen repeated her invitation.

"You can take my chair," Sara offered, as she eased a Clem over to a stack of pallets near by. He was shaking, but other than being terrified by all the shouting and the guns, he seemed all right.

Mickey had already cued up some of the more interesting bits of footage from yesterday.

Cautiously, Johnson took the offered chair next to him. She'd read his file; she'd read all of their files. Gwen Cooper wasn't lying about it being an odd mix. She was former police constable, admittedly little more than a rookie at the time she was recruited into Torchwood, three years ago, but hardly the sort one would expect to turn against Crown and country. The other woman present, the American, had an advanced degree in physics from one of the more prestigious universities in the United States and had worked crime scene investigation in Las Vegas…her record wasn't spotless, but it didn't exactly shout 'future terrorist,' either.

"Do you know what's going on at Thames House?" Mickey Smith asked her. He used to be an auto mechanic and had, briefly, been suspected of murdering his (still) missing girlfriend, Rose Tyler. Then he went completely off the radar for almost two years before resurfacing in the employ of Jack Harkness last year, just after the Dalek incident.

"Nobody does knows what's going on at Thames House," she told him. Smith was giving over a very sly grin. "I take it you do?"

"Have a look," he nodded towards a pair of monitors. "This is from yesterday—that one's live."

She regarded him a moment more but then turned her attention towards the screens. She wasn't in any danger after all, not just from watching, listening to what they had to say. In the end, it would all just be evidence to use against them. She recognized Prime Minister Brian Greene immediately on the live feed… John Frobisher… a few of the others… they appeared to be in a meeting, very high level, no doubt. "How did you get somebody inside?" she wanted to know.

"Just watch," Gwen advised, nodding towards the screen with the recorded footage. "Although I should warn you, you probably won't like what you're about to see."

On the screen, Frobisher was asking…something…it was in a large tank in the middle of the room, but it was impossible to make out exactly what it was… Frobisher asked it for a point of clarification, inquiring what did the 456 do with the children.

Then the cameraman went into the tank… it was liken nothing she'd ever seen before.

"Is this real?"

"It's real," the Welshwoman assured her in a tone that was difficult to disbelieve. "That's one of the children the British government gave over to the aliens in nineteen sixty five. Clem was one of those children," she nodded towards the frightened old man.

She followed her gaze. "I—"

"Clem was left behind," said the American woman sitting with him. "That's why he's here now, with us."

"But…" she looked at the old man and then back to the screen, "It still looks…"

"Like a child?" asked Gwen. "Yeah. Yeah, they say they'll live forever like that. We're not quite sure why the aliens want them, we just know they're attached to their bodies somehow. That they're using them for something."

She scowled and was about to ask what when… "It _blinked!" _it…the child… was looking directly at the camera, and it blinked.

"They want more children," said Sara, easing her way back towards the computers, mindful of the soldiers—they were watching the screen, too, looking as mortified and dismayed by what they were seeing as their commander. How many of them had children…nieces…nephews… Sara wondered.

"More?" Johnson looked at her.

"Millions more," said Mickey.

"That's why they've come back," Sara told her, easing over another chair to sit down wit them. "It's what those numbers meant, the ones the children were saying yesterday. That's how many children the aliens expect each country to give them."

"Ten percent," Gwen said. "They've asked for ten percent of the world's children. And the government is going to do it. They have a plan to secretly hand over _ten percent _of our children to those things_. Millions_ of innocent children."

"Do you have children?" Sara asked her.

"Me…no…" she glanced around at her men. Some of them looked like they were wavering. She knew a few of them were fathers… uncles. What must they be thinking?

"We've got it all on video," Mickey was saying. "Every last word. And it's not just on this computer. At least three other copies of these files exist and they are all in very secure locations."

"What are you going to do with that information?" Johnson wanted to know.

"It all depends on your boss," said Sara. "But I for one believe that the people of the world have the right to know what their leaders were willing to do, no matter what Frobisher decides."

"That would cause world wide panic!" she protested.

"And what do you think is going to happen tomorrow," Gwen inquired, "when millions of children are taken away from their parents, never to be seen or heard from again?"

Johnson swallowed. She had a point. "What's Harkness planning?"

…………………………………………………………

Wendy took a breath and let it out again as she and Jack neared Thames House. This was really it…

"I'm going in alone," Jack told her.

"I don't understand. I thought—"

There had been considerable debate about who would accompany him to face off with the 456. Gibbs had been the first to volunteer, even though he wasn't even a member of Jack's team. And Abby and Martha both wanted first hand looks at the creature. But Jack had chosen her and she would follow him anywhere, do whatever he asked her to, even if it meant revealing herself…

He'd stopped, turned and was facing her, his hands on her shoulders, clearly understanding that she really would do whatever he asked of her now. Any of them would. "I know. And that's exactly why I can't risk taking anyone in there; we don't know enough about this thing. But hopefully," he flipped open his wrist strap and tapped a few buttons, "after today, we will," he cast a sly smile in her direction.

"Why? What are you doing?"

"Setting this to take readings the whole time I'm in there, and," he finished inputting the commands, "transmit them directly to both Abby and Sara who will hopefully be able to make any sense of it."

"What do you want me to do, then?"

"Stay here. If anything goes wrong just…be ready. Be ready for anything."

"All right."

He gave her a brief, grim, smile, then headed into the building hoping like Hell Lois had gotten through to the Prime Minister and that even if he didn't care about the safety and wellbeing of three hundred and twenty five thousand British children, he at least cared enough about his career to finally let him and his team do their jobs.

………………………………………………………….

Ianto swallowed hard as he watched, through Lois Habiba's eyes, Jack entering the room with the alien, on the monitor that was set up in the Gold Command meeting. His mouth was dry and he felt like there were rats gnawing at his gut because he should _be_ there. He shouldn't be sitting safely on the sidelines, he should be with Jack, he shouldn't be doing this alone. They were supposed to be partners and partners didn't abandon one another. He realized—had realized some while ago—that it wasn't Jack who had caused him to lose the feeling of connectedness he was so desperate to recapture. It was him. Every time he pushed him away, every time he got angry, every time he got jealous, he lost a little bit more of what held them together.

"I'm getting something new here. It's Jack!" Abby voice cut through his thoughts. "He's sending a feed from his wrist strap."

"What kind of feed?" Bobby asked over her shoulder.

"I don't know. Some kind of data, I think. And audio! He's sending an audio signal so we can hear what's going on in there," she grinned. Clever Jack! Of course he would do everything he could to keep them in the loop. "Hang on," it took her just a moment to adjust the settings on her laptop so that they could hear what Jack was transmitting.

Sarah Jane stepped behind his chair and placed her hands on Ianto's shoulders; he held onto them as they watched. Prepared to listen. "Does it ever get any easier?" he whispered up at her. "Seeing the possibility of the end of the world, knowing things other people can't ever know. Does it ever get any easier to bear?"

"No. Never."

"How do you do it?"

"Me?" she cast a fond look over to Harry. "I have my friends to rely on. My family. The people who have lived through the same things I have. The ones who understand."

The audio came through, then. Jack was speaking:

"… there's a saying here on Earth. A very old very wise friend of mine taught me it. 'An injury to one is an injury to all.' And when people act according to that philosophy, the human race is the finest species in the universe."

"You yielded in the past," the alien told him. "You will do so again."

Jack shook his head, took a step closer. "In the past the numbers were so small they could be kept secret, but this time that is _not_ gonna happen. We've recorded everything. All the negotiations, everything the policies said, everything that happened in this room. And those tapes will be released to the public unless you leave this planet for good."

"You yielded in the past," it repeated, its inflection barely changing. "You will do so again."

"No. We won't yield. Not this time. Not ever. When the people of this planet find out the truth, you will have over six billion angry human beings taking up arms to fight you. And that may be fight you think you can win, but at the end of it the human race, in defence of its children, will fight to the death. If I have to lead them into battle, _I __**will**__."_

"This is fascinating, isn't it?" the creature replied calmly.

.

In an attic in Ealing, Ianto held onto Sarah Jane's hands just a little tighter. He should be there. He was so proud of Jack, he loved him so much… but he was so afraid, because that thing was too calm, too sure of itself.

"Have you made any sense of the readings from Jack yet?" Sarah Jane asked of the other three.

"All I can tell you is that the air inside that chamber is deadly," Harry told her. "Wherever that thing comes from, it's nothing like earth. It couldn't possibly survive in our atmosphere unaided."

"Mr Smith?" she inquired.

"There is still insufficient data to identify the species designated 456 or its planet of origin," the computer replied.

"Any ideas about its technology?" Ianto heard himself asking, although he didn't fully recall opening his mouth to speak or formulating the question in his head.

"No," Abby told him glumly. "It's relying on our technology to keep it safe in its artificial environment. How's that for adding insult to injury?"

"Well what if we just cut the power to Thames House…?" Sarah Jane suggested in Harry's direction. "If that thing is relying on _us_ to keep it alive, we just turn off it's life support—"

He shook his head. "It's not that simple."

"Besides, we don't know if it came alone," said Bobby. "There might be a whole army of those creatures out there."

"The boy's right," Harry agreed. "Until we locate their ship, we have to tread lightly."

The alien continued to speak drawing their attention back to the computer screen:

"The human infant mortality rate is twenty-nine thousand, one hundred and fifty eight deaths per day. Every three seconds a child dies. The human response is to accept and adapt."

"We're adapting right now and we're making this a war," Jack answered it.

"Than the fight begins."

But nothing happened.

.

"What does that mean, 'the fight begins'?" Johnson found herself asking her 'hosts'—hosts that were supposed to be prisoners by now.

"I don't know," Gwen answered her honestly. "But I don't like the sound of it."

"It knows I'm watching," Clem announced, then. His tone was cold with terror. "It knows. It _knows_."

"Clem, it's all right," Gwen tried to tell him.

Johnson looked to her but the Welshwoman seemed no more able—or willing—to explain what was going on with the old man as she had been to explain the stream of data coming from Harkness. He didn't seem to have anything on him that could collect and transmit that much detailed information, yet there was no denying that it was coming from him.

"It knows I'm here," the old man repeated, sounding more frantic this time. "It knows!"

Gwen wrapped her arms around him; he was shaking. A quick glance towards Sara got her nothing but a shake of the head. If there was some technology the alien was using to seek him out, Jack's wrist strap wasn't picking it up. "Shhh, Clem, it's all right," she told him.

"Something's happening," Sara said then.

On the monitor, they heard Jack telling the alien that he was still waiting for its reply.

"Action has been taken," it responded.

"What action?" Gwen wanted to know—then as if in answer to her question, they heard the sudden ear splitting wail of sirens going off in Thames House through the live feed from Jack.

It was impossible to know for sure if was in response to the noise or if it was something more sinister, but Clem had started weeping, his hands clasped over his ears.

"What's happening over there!" Gwen shouted. Clem cried harder.

"Hang on," Mickey slid in next to Sara. "The whole buildings gone into lockdown."

Then the alien voice spoke with blood chilling calm: "You wanted a demonstration of war. A virus has been released. It will kill everyone in the building."

.

"No," Ianto breathed. Jack… Jack would survive, he always survived, but there had to be hundreds other people in that building… secretaries, mail clerks, janitors… _ordinary_ people just going about their lives, all about to die…

"Harry…?" Sarah Jane looked over to him. Abby too, moisture glistening behind green eyes. "Is there anything we can do?" asked Sarah Jane.

He only shook his head.

"There has to be some way to override the lockdown," the American insisted.

"There isn't," he told her, told all of them. "The building is designed to withstand both chemical and biological attacks. No one can get in or out, not after the building has been sealed."

"Isn't there some kind of security protocol! You're the Deputy Director!"

"I'd have to be there—I—there's nothing I can do from here," he told her helplessly.

"The remnant," they heard the alien announce then, "will be disconnected."

…………………………………..………………….

In the warehouse, Clem screamed, crying, doubting over in pain as a dissonant screech echoed through the whole place, coming in through speakers in the computer. They heard Jack's voice calling over it, in the background, giving desperate instructions for someone to shut down the Thames House cooling system, stop up the air vents, distribute gas masks, anything to keep the virus from spreading, protect the people who were trapped inside.

He ran back to the room with the alien. "All right!" he yelled at the tank. "You've made your point! You can stop now!"

"You _said_ you would fight."

"I take it back, I take it all back—there are hundreds of people in this building! They didn't ask for this fight, I did! Don't kill them because of me! _Please!"_ All those people… all of the ordinary people, innocent men and women who hadn't done anything but come to work today, just like any other day… "Please, you can stop this! We can talk, find some other solution!"

"You will die," the alien told him. "And tomorrow your people will hand over the children."

……………………………………….…………….

Clem crumbled to the floor in Gwen's arms, blood oozing from his ears…his nose….mouth. Sara—Mickey—they were with her, holding him, while the soldiers looked on… they didn't know what else to do.

"Shut it off!" Gwen yelled to the woman still sitting by the computers. "Turn off the computer—!"

"Gwen, it's too late," Sara told her. "He's gone."

"No…no…" she tried not to cry, but he was gone…

……………………………………………………

Through the web cam, Sarah Jane, Ianto, the others, saw enough to understand what had happened, what the alien meant by 'disconnecting' the remnant. Bobby slid his arms around Abby's shoulders as tears rolled down her cheeks.

"It's not fair," she told him. "They left him alive all this time…why kill him now?"

"I don't know, Abbs," he held her tight.

Ianto watched the screen, couldn't look away; Lois was watching the monitor in the room she was in, they watched Jack die together. He heard Greene asking her if she was still feeling pleased with herself.

……………………………………………………

Outside Thames House, Wendy watched helplessly as the building went into lockdown; she could hear people screaming inside, pounding on the doors desperate to get out...she could almost smell their fear at not knowing what was happening. She was afraid, too… and then… she heard only the sirens. There was no one left alive inside to cry for help; she smelled only death.

………………………………………………………

Gwen looked up at Johnson. "Now do you see? Do you see why we can't just let them win? Do see the kinds of monsters you've been collaborating with?"

"How…how do you expect to defeat an enemy capable of…that…?" she wanted to know. "Of this?" she motioned towards the body of the old man. "How do you defeat that?"

Sara stood up. "We'll figure something out. _Jack_ will figure something out. He's the only person who can."

"You saw him die!"

"And you saw him come back," Mickey reminded her.

"A man who can't die may have nothing to fear, but what about the people around him? What if one of you had been in there with your Captain?" she challenged.

"Are you saying you saying you're afraid to die?" Gwen asked her.

"No. I'm asking if you are."

* * *

**A/N:**

Brief final thoughs on Day Four...

I have to be perfectly honest that the original version of the end of Day Four was, in my own personal opinion, so beautifully, tragically sad, that I sat there for fifteen minutes not sure how I was ever going "fix" it. I hate messing with good writing and I believe that RTD told a very powerful story. Just the same, I hated the end of Day Four, I just loved it too, if that makes any sense at all. That said, I'm relieved to say that with the writing of this, I can put Day Four up on a shelf and not have to watch it again for a very long time.

I wrote parts of this twice, but ultimately preferred Jack going in alone and Wendy sitting helplessly outside the building listening to everyone die... although the virus wouldn't likely have killed her, explaining that to the haz-mat teams might have been a little interesting to say the least... sorry to have "skipped" over Gibbs... I know exactly what he's up to and so will you, next chapter! Thank you again for all the fantastic reviews, I really appreciate them.


	23. Day Five, Part One

**A/N:**

I was disappointed myself not to have Gibbs in the last chapter, but I felt the need to end it where I did. However, as promised, Gibbs was up to something important… he still isn't in this one as much as I might like, but we should see more of him after this… this one has some big personal moments going on for Jack and Ianto.

**CelticHeiressFiona**: Thank you! Wow, what a review ;-)

Of course I'm glad of all the reviews this one has gotten… I also think I'm glad it's almost over! It has been seriously emotionally draining for me as a writer.

**Quick note:** I have absolutely no idea how many people would be working at Thames House on any given day, it just looks like a fairly large building and that for the most part they were carrying on as usual, trying to keep up the "everything is fine, just ignore the pillar of fire and strange things your kids are saying" line Greene seemed to be trying to feed the people of Great Britain. At any rate, I'm guessing about the numbers when it comes to causalities for the day, assuming that the room where Gwen found Jack and Ianto's bodies was only one of many rooms where bodies were being housed, probably to make it easier for relatives to identify and claim them later. If anyone has any better idea on number of people who may have been trapped, I welcome the input ;-)

Likewise, please forgive me for flubbing a few details regarding the building Greene's meeting was in. Suggestions and corrections welcome, I did the best research what I could, but let's face it, typing in "how would a prisoner be escorted out of a high level cabinet meeting" into Google wouldn't yield much ;-)

* * *

**Chapter Twenty Three:  
Day Four, Part Four &  
Day Five, Part One**

"_The greatest test of courage on earth is to bear defeat without losing heart."_  
Robert Green Ingersoll

* * *

"I hope you're satisfied," Brian Greene, Prime Minister, said in Lois Habiba's direction. His tone was dark; he made no attempt to his contempt for her, for Torchwood, or the resentment he felt at the moment over the position he'd been put in. But she barely heard his voice. Captain Harkness was dead. She'd never met him, but Gwen had been so sure that he would be the one fix everything and he'd been so brave, so gallant when he charged into that room confronted the alien. He was absolutely fearless!

And now he was dead, along with hundreds of other people, everyone in Thames House, and all because of _**her**_. Because she had allowed herself to believe that one woman could be a revolutionary, that one woman could seriously have a hand in saving the world. Her gran would have told her she shouldn't think so highly of herself, she was, after all, just a temp, an office girl. She was nobody important.

"Get her out of here," Greene ordered one of the guards outside the door to remove Lois from the room.

"But…I…" she stammered. Green wasn't the only one looking at her that way, they all were, especially John Frobisher.

"_This_ is exactly why I tried to keep Torchwood out of it, Miss Habiba." he told her in a quiet, angry tone. He was obviously the sort of man who rarely raised his voice. "There were over three hundred people in that building. They're all dead. All because of Jack Harkness. Because you helped him."

In Sarah Jane's attic, Ianto felt his jaw clench. It wasn't Jack's fault, if Frobisher had called them sooner…

"No!" Abby said aloud what he was thinking. "If they hadn't shut us out, this never would have happened! It's _his _fault, not Jack's or Lois's! They should be taking him out in handcuffs!"

"I know, Abbs," Bobby told her gently.

"What about Lois?" Sarah Jane asked. "She risked so much…"

"I'm sure I can get her released," said Harry calmly. "I just have to get down there—"

"No need," Ianto told him with a wan smile. He leant forward and typed a message to Lois into the keyboard. _Keep your eyes open and be prepared to act fast. We haven't abandoned you. _Lois had been willing to put her neck on the line for them, the weren't about to leave her to the mercy of the likes of John Frobisher and Brian Greene. "Abby, you need to make that call," he reminded her.

"Right."

"Ianto," Gwen's voice came through the other computer's speakers. He shifted so he could see her better. "Ianto, this is agent Johnson," she introduced the woman sitting next to her. "She has a… a proposition."

Although the sight of her made his blood run cold, he nodded. He would listen. He would listen because they were running out of options as well as out of time.

……………………………………………………………

Waiting, while it was a regular part of his old job, wasn't something Jethro Gibbs especially liked. Oh, he was a patient man. A _very _patient man. He could sit on a stake-out all night long waiting for some scumbag to make his move. No, what he hated was feeling like he was camped out on the sidelines while other people rolled up their sleeves and got their hands dirty.

He, McGee and Martha Jones Milligan were sitting in a coffee shop, attempting to look inconspicuous. Waiting. "So what really happened last Christmas?" he asked McGee, his tone casual; mostly he was looking for a way to pass the time, although it did happen to be something that had plagued his curiosity the last few days.

"What d'you mean?" McGee countered his question with one of his own; he sounded nervous.

Gibbs smiled. "DiNozzo visited you and Abby last Christmas. Only he said he got so drunk he couldn't remember half of what happened while he was in Cardiff," he drained his cup. "Not really like him to get that drunk," he set the cup down in front of him and turned to face the younger man.

He cleared his throat. He turned to Martha, but all she did was give an inquisitive look and a shrug, like she was waiting to hear the answer herself. "There erm…there was an incident," Tim told them. "Jack thought it might be better if Tony didn't remember what happened," he admitted.

"What did Jack do this time?" their female companion asked, teasing to try and lighten the mood.

Tim smiled in response, mostly because he appreciated the effort. Just the same, under the circumstances, there didn't seem like to be any point in denying what had happened or trying to lie to Gibbs. He wasn't sure he could pull the latter off anyway. "He was killed by blowfish in a café where Abby and Tony were having dinner. It was pretty gross."

"God, I hate those things," Martha moaned. "Smelly, obnoxious, foul mouthed…and _that's _when they're dead," she gulped down the last of her latte. "Live they're even worse."

Before Gibbs could ask (or even decide if he actually wanted to know) what a Blowfish was, the phone Gwen had given him rang. It was Abby.

………………………………………………………..

"It looks like they're taking her out the east side of the building," said Harry, looking over Abby's shoulder and wishing it hadn't been so long since he'd been in London. "If I'm right, your people are going to have to move fast."

Abby smiled—Gibbs was good at fast—and relayed the information to him over the phone, while Ianto typed in a message for Lois to get ready.

………………………………………………………….

_Ready for what? _She wondered as four armed guards escorted her, handcuffed like a common criminal, out of the building. Did they really think she was that dangerous? She was just an office girl… an office girl responsible for the deaths of hundreds of people.

Everyone at Thames House… Captain Harkness. And tomorrow… tomorrow millions of children were going to be sacrificed to those aliens and _nobody_ could stop it because surely by now all the calls, everything, had been traced and wherever Torchwood were hiding, they must be in custody, or at least they would be soon.

"Excuse me…?" A female voice called out to one of the guards.

He turned and was about to say tell her she didn't belong there, when a man's fist came seemingly out of nowhere… The next few seconds passed by in a blur for Lois… she was pulled back out of the way when another guard hit the ground. Moments alter, all four were being dragged back around the corner to the service entrance she'd been escorted out of.

_They're with us,_ Gwen typed to her. _You're saef. SaFE, sorry._

"Are you all right?" one of the men asked her; he was young and clean cut and had an American accent.

"I think so, but… Captain Harkness…" she looked from one to the other and back again, wondering if they knew. "He…he's dead. He died, in Thames House."

"I have the feeling he's down but not out yet," the other man told her; he was American, too. He was picking the locks on the cuffs.

"What else can you do?" Martha asked him when he had Lois freed.

He smirked in her direction, without answering. "We need to get out of here," he said, leading the way towards the street.

"Hang on," Lois told them. "Gwen says to come back to the warehouse…something's happened…she'll explain when we get there…?" She gave her rescuers a questioning look.

* * *

**Day Five, Part One**

* * *

Alice Carter looked up when the cell door was opened; it was the woman, Johnson, the one who had practically kidnapped her and her son from their home and brought them there.

The two women eyed one another a long moment. Finally, Alice broke the silence. "Something has changed, hasn't it?" she could see it in Johnson's eyes.

"Yes. I'd like you to come with me…your son will be safe, I promise," she added.

"None of them are safe," Alice told her, bitterly, but she turned to Steven anyway. He looked frightened. No matter how many times she told him that they would be all right, they'd be home before he knew it, he didn't believe her. He didn't say so, he always said he knew they would, but she could see in his eyes he that knew better. "Do you think you can manage on your own for a bit? I won't be long, I promise."

"One of my men can look after him if you like…maybe get him something to drink?" Johnson offered. The attempt at what seemed like kindness didn't seem to come naturally to her.

Alice eyed her with suspicion, but agreed. "Nothing with too much sugar," she added.

The other smiled, just a little. Just for a moment. "Come on then… we'll go to the mess first, and then I'm just going to have a quick word with your mum, all right?" she tried very hard to sound personable when she spoke to the boy, but it just wasn't in her nature. It never had been, not even when she was a child herself. She gave orders. She took orders. She didn't have conversations.

Alice walked next to her in uneasy silence wondering what had changed in the last twelve or so hours, knowing it had to have something to do with her father. When they reached the mess she saw a group of about a dozen people setting up heavy equipment on the opposite side of the large room. They were all wearing civilian clothing and stopped to see what was going on when they came in the door.

Alice stopped short at the sight of them, a cold knot forming in her stomach. "Who are they?" she asked Johnson quietly. In one word, the other woman confirmed her worst fears:

"Torchwood."

She took s a step back, protectively hanging onto her son. "What are Torchwood doing here?"

"Mum, what's Torchwood?" Steven wanted to know.

"It's…it's nothing, Sweetheart, just a… a group, an organization," Alice told him quickly, her gaze still riveted to Johnson.

"Like a club?" Steven persisted.

"Yes, Sweetheart, very much like a club," she lied.

"It's not what you think," Johnson began, trying to calm her if only because she didn't want some sort of incident on her hands. But one of the Torchwood team was already on their way over.

"What's going on here?" the young Black woman inquired as she approached. There was unmasked hostility in her tone.

"Mrs Carter and her son have been…guests…here for the past couple of days, that's all," she met the other's tone with one that she hoped was less hostile. For the moment, Torchwood had agreed to cooperate in exchange for getting their Captain's body safely out of Thames House, but she had no doubt that things would get ugly fast after Harkness resurrected himself if she made enemies of his team. His family. "It's nothing for you to worry about, Dr Jones. We were just getting the boy something to drink, that's all."

She turned to the woman standing next to Johnson; she was a civilian and she appeared to be frightened out of her wits. "Are you all right? Have you been hurt?" she asked.

"No, we're perfectly all right," Alice lied again. "Thank you."

Martha gave Johnson an appraising look; she'd heard what she did to Jack. None of them trusted her. But as much as she didn't believe that Mrs Carter was all right, she didn't appear to be injured, either. She conjured up a warm smile for her and her son. "My name is Martha," she held out her hand.

"I'm Alice. Alice Carter. This is my son, Steven," she said; she accepted her handshake, but continued to clutch onto her son with her other hand.

"You're absolutely certain you're all right?" Martha asked a second time.

"Yes. We are. Thank you." She looked at Johnson, silently pleading with her.

"I'll just get one of my men to keep an eye on the boy and then we can go talk…"

"We can keep an eye on him," Martha offered in a friendly tone. It seemed to her like a better option than giving the poor kid over to some soldier to watch him.

"Aren't you busy, Dr Jones?" said Johnson, her tone sharp.

"Not all of us. Steven, how would you like to see a really, really cool computer?" she held out her hand to the boy.

"Really I—" Alice began, but her son cut her off:

"My Uncle Jack knows all about computers! He said he might get me a laptop for my next birthday. _If_ Mum says it's ok."

Martha blinked…_Uncle Jack_… as in Jack _**Harkness**_…? she forced another smile. Jack was a fairly common name, after all…but the boy did have a set of dimples on him that looked awfully familiar, and those eyes… "He must be some uncle," she said. She looked up at the mother, "We'll keep an eye on him, I promise. If… if that's all right with you?"

"Mum, please?"

"All right," she relented, still visibly terrified of something Martha didn't understand. Unless it had something to do with her relationship with Jack… she took Steven by the hand and led him over to the rest of the team. She didn't voice her suspicions.

Alice watched her set Steven up away from their work area, leaving him in the care of an older man with an easy going smile and a dark skinned woman with long curly hair. Her son looked more at ease than he had in days.

"I'm sorry," Johnson surprised her by saying, drawing her attention away from him. "I really hadn't expected…I didn't do this on purpose," she insisted.

She regarded her a moment. No. She wasn't lying. She wasn't subtle enough to have manipulated the meeting. "Where's my father?" she asked very, very quietly.

"Come with me," Johnson motioned her to follow back down the hall.

Alice cast a quick last glance over her shoulder; Steven looked up and waved at her. She waved back and blew him a kiss. Then she turned back to Johnson repeating the question about her father.

"Captain Harkness is dead."

"That's impossible."

"I'm under the impression he won't stay dead for long, but for right now, he's dead," she said tersely, plainly feeling out of her element when dealing with men who died and came back to life on a regular basis.

"Can I see him?" Alice asked.

"Follow me," Johnson led the way down a long corridor that led to what appeared as if it might at one time have been an infirmary. She stopped just outside the door, allowing the other woman a moment look in through the door's small glass window.

"Who's that with him?" she asked. While she was sure the primly dressed young man was a member of the current Torchwood staff, there was something intimate in the way he was sitting in the chair next to her father's bed. He was holding his hand and seemed to be speaking to him, but too quietly for her to make out much more than a murmur of sound, a lilting Welsh accent. He stroked his cheek with uncommon tenderness and ran his fingers through his hair. _Lovers,_ Alice thought.

She wasn't surprised by that. She knew her father played for teams… any team, her mother had once told her. If it breathed and was willing, he would shag it. Those had been her mother's exact words when, at age fifteen, Alice asked her why she and her father had never married. She never brought it up again, with either of them.

"His name is Ianto Jones-Harkness," Johnson's voice brought her back to the present.

"I'm sorry…what did you just say?" _Jones-__**Harkness**__…? _

"Civil union."

"No." Her father would have told her... wouldn't he? After all, he had his own life, had done for a long time. A very long time, in fact. Her mother had been dead for several years and anyway, they hadn't been together in so long, it wasn't as if he didn't have every right to move on and at the very least with a man there would be no children for him to hurt, but…but even in profile Ianto Jones-Harkness looked so very young. "He's younger than I am, isn't he?" she asked quietly.

Johnson frowned. "What difference…?"

"Because I want to know," she snapped, keeping her voice down so as not to be overheard by the man on the other side of the door. "Because I know you know and because it's hardly a national secret," she added when the other continued to hesitate.

"He's twenty six."

She closed her eyes. Her mother hadn't even been that young when…

"Do you still want to go in?"

Alice turned away from the door, away from her father and his… "I want to know what's going on," she said.

Johnson nodded and led the way a little further down the hall, away from the infirmary. "The alien released a virus into Thames House," she said. "It killed everyone inside the building. Including your father."

"Why did you bring him here?"

"The alien demanded that ten percent of the world's children be given to it. Tomorrow. It seems as if the governments of the world have agreed to go along, albeit secretly."

"How on earth can they keep something like that a secret?"

"They'll claim they were duped by the aliens, tricked right along with the rest of us—victims just like everybody else. Your father is the only person who has a chance of stopping them."

"Forgive me for saying so, but you don't seem like the sort of woman who gives a damn," Alice's tone was cold. Harsh.

"I suppose not. But if we give into them this time, what's to prevent them from coming back in forty more years—in twenty. In ten, demanding more children from us?"

"What are you going to do?"

"Wait until your father wakes up and hope to God he has an answer because we're running out of time."


	24. Day Five, Part Two

**A/N:**

I really only broke Ch's 23 and 24 into two chapters because otherwise it seemed WAY too long.

Almost forgot: **WickedWitchoftheSE --** thank you! I don't understand who could say that Jack/Ianto fans would love CoE, either. It pretty effectively killed them off... literally... but that's what fanfiction is for ;-) (And this one is for all the people who want Jack and Ianto to have happily ever after for more years to come!)

* * *

**Chapter Twenty Four  
Day Five, Part Two**

"_When you smiled you had my undivided attention.  
When you laughed you had my urge to laugh with you.  
When you cried you had my urge to hold you.  
When you said you loved me, you had my heart forever."_

* * *

A swift, soft rush of air filled his lungs, his heart beat in his ears…darkness filled his vision… his eyes were open, but the room is dark… _you will die and tomorrow your people will hand over the children… _His heart beat faster and he gulped in more stale air. Was it tomorrow, or had tomorrow come and gone already? Was it too late? How long…? Where was he?

As he sat up, Jack realized he wasn't alone. There was someone sitting in a chair next to him, asleep. He smiled, relaxed just a little. Ianto. He was there. Just like he'd promised he would always be.

But where were they?

As his eyes grew accustomed to the dark, he was able to take better stock of his surroundings. He was sitting on a cot in some sort of…a wave of cold fear washed over him. The rooms had all the earmarks of a military hospital... an infirmary... the walls were dull... dank. There were no windows... he would be anything the door was locked. That could only mean one thing. "Ianto!" he hissed softly. It was one thing for him to have been caught, but not Ianto, not him. He could survive anything, but… "Ianto?" _please let him just be asleep…_

The Welshman's eyes fluttered open. "Hey," he greeted him with a smile. "Sorry, didn't mean to doze off…" he glanced at his watch. He hadn't been asleep for more than twenty minutes.

"Are you all right, have they hurt you?"

"I'm fine—Jack—Cariad—"

He was already starting to get up, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. "How long?"

"Just a few hours. There's still time to stop them—Jack you need to stop and listen to me," he caught him before he got up; he recognized the look of wild panic in the older man's blue eyes, the sound of it in his voice.

He closed his eyes and drew in another ragged breath. He'd only been gone a few hours. They still had time. All they had to do was get out of there… but… "What are you doing here? You were supposed to stay with Sarah Jane," _where it was safe_… "Seren? Jason?"

"They're safe, Jack. They're with Luke and your mother and they're some place safe, I promise you. Abby and Bobby stayed behind at Sarah Jane's. I came here to be with you and…and the rest of the team."

"What? Where are we? Who…?"

"Jack, listen to me. It's all right."

"Frobisher?" had he finally come to his senses?

He shook his head. "The woman, the one…" the younger man couldn't say it. He couldn't believe he'd been willing to trust her, that Gwen had, not after everything she'd done. But what choice did they have? "Her name is Johnson," he said, aware of how cold his tone was, how bitter. "She says she wants our help. She didn't know…she was just following orders before, going on what Frobisher had been telling her. Jack, he's been out to infiltrate us for at least he last two years."

"_What?"_

"Johnson told me that Patanjali was a plant, a mole… look, that doesn't matter now. All that matters is that you're back," he reached out and took his hand, twining his fingers into his. "She was my best bet for getting you out of Thames House without putting anyone else at risk, so I agreed to work with her, to bring the rest of the team here along with some guy who says he's been studying the 456 for the last forty years."

Jack smiled, he couldn't help it. "I hope saving the world factored into your decision to cooperate with this Johnson woman, just a little," he teased. Having his partner's hand in his felt so incredibly good, especially after the last few days, after everything that had come out about his involvement in what had happened in nineteen sixty-five.

He returned his smile. "Saving the world may have factored in _just _little bit," he teased right back. He leant in; the other met his kiss half way, returned it. Deepened it.

Jack cupped his face and drew him in closer still, holding onto him. He knew there was a planet to save, but…

"I love you, Cariad," the younger man whispered when their lips parted; he didn't pull any further away than was absolutely necessary to speak. "I love you with all of my heart. I know that what happened in nineteen sixty-five must have been eating away at you all these years. You're a good man, Jack. It must have killed you to be involved in something like that, to feel like you were responsible—to feel you had to make the choice between twelve children and millions of people. But you _weren't_ responsible. It _wasn't_ your decision. And if you were afraid to tell me about it because you thought I wouldn't forgive you…" he pressed his lips to the other's mouth, a soft, reassuring kiss. "Don't ever be afraid of that."

"I've lived a long time and I've done a lot of things, Ianto, not all of them—"

He cut him off with another kiss. "I know. But the thing is, if I ever have to chose between finding a way to forgive you for something you've done and living the rest of my life without you because I wasn't able to forgive you—that's an easy choice, Jack. I love you. I want to be with you for the rest of my life. _Nothing_ in my life has ever felt so right as this," he reached down twined his fingers into Jack's again.

Jack closed his eyes and let his forehead lean against the younger man's forehead; he breathed in his scent. Held his hand. "I'm sorry I didn't trust you enough to tell you. I should have. I—I can't promise that I'll tell you everything, there's just too much of it too tell, but I can—I do—promise that I will tell you anything you ever want to know. All you have to do is ask." His tone was hopeful, it was the best he could do, and he wanted, _needed_, it to be good enough. He just wasn't sure it would be.

Ianto had closed his eyes as well; he inhaled deeply, those fifty first century pheromones. He held onto his hand, and in that moment he felt more connected to his husband than he had since they'd returned to their own time.

"Ianto…?"

He heard the uncertainty in the other man's tone and tilted his head to kiss him, just lightly. "I can accept that Cariad. And I promise you that there is nothing you can tell me that would ever change how much I love you."

"How can you—?" how could anyone possibly be as sure of something, of anything, as his young Welshman had sounded just then.

He opened his eyes. "If my choice is to forgive you or lose you, than it really isn't a choice at all, Jack. I choose you, without question," he repeated. "Now come on," his grinned, "let's go save the world one more time."

…………………………………………………….

As Ianto led the way towards the mess, Jack felt like whatever it was that had gotten itself wedged between them when they came home to their own time was finally gone. He could breathe again. He could…

"Uncle Jack!" the boy darted away from his mother like a torpedo.

Jack caught Steven up in his arms, acutely aware of the fact that his entire team had stopped what they were doing on the other side of the room and were looking at him. Expectantly. He didn't dare look at them or at the man next to him. Instead, he focused his attention on his grandson, hugging him tightly, grateful that he and Alice seemed to be all right. "Hey there, solider, what're you doing here?" he asked Steven, even though he knew the answer. Alice was on her way over; her expression was difficult to read.

"That's a rather long story," she informed him as she reached for her son. "I'm sure you can guess most of it." Her tone was just shy of scathing.

Jack handed the reluctant boy over to his mother. "Are you two all right?" he asked her.

She merely nodded.

"I've made loads of new friends!" Steven told him; he either didn't notice or didn't understand his mother's icy attitude.

"Oh have you?" Jack glanced around at his team. It didn't take a genius to figure out what they'd pieced together, the assumptions they'd come to…

"Are you all right?" Alice asked him softly, the ice cracking just a little.

He had no doubt she was aware of the condition he'd been in when he was brought in. "We'll talk later," he told her quietly.

"What's to talk about?" she said. She cast a brief look in the direction of the man standing next to him, then turned and took Steven back to where they'd been sitting.

Jack cleared his throat.

"Well. That was awkward," Ianto observed. He was aware of Gwen's eyes on him... Martha's… the glare Sara was giving Jack. If looks could kill Jack would be dead all over again.

"Ianto, I…" Jack faltered. Bracing himself, he met his Welshman's gaze, but whatever he was thinking, he was keeping it hidden beneath an air tight veneer of civility. Professionalism. (Thankfully, someone suggested to the rest of the team that they get back to work and they had, buying him just a few more seconds.) "It's not what you think," he finally said to his partner.

"I'm sure I don't think anything, Sir."

The world bottomed out again. "Ianto…" but the soft touch of the younger man's fingers brushing up against his stopped his apology before it got out of his throat and brought the world back up into its place again.

"Whatever it is, it doesn't matter, Jack," he said softly, sincerely. "You said it yourself, you've lived a long time and done a lot of things," he glanced towards Alice. She met his gaze, held it for just a moment, then looked away. There was hostility there. Anger. Hurt. "I suspect it isn't me you owe an apology to," he added, wondering if the boy was really Jack's; it was fairly obvious that at least Gwen and Martha thought he was. Sara, too…hell, they probably all did. He was secretly, silently, relieved Abby was only present via webcam. If she were there, she wouldn't be quietly going about her job pretending to ignore the elephant in the room.

Jack cleared his throat again, mostly it seemed to kick start his own vocal cords. "My relationship with Alice and Steven is complicated," he said quietly.

"No doubt."

Exasperated, he pulled the younger man back into the hallway, away from the others because no matter how hard they seemed to be trying, they were still staring. "She's _not _some old girlfriend, Ianto. She's my daughter. That makes Seven my grandson."

He blinked, caught completely off guard. "All right. I did not see that coming," he admitted. "Why haven't you ever mentioned them to me before?"

"I'm sorry," he said, instead of explaining.

Ianto searched his face a moment, realizing the tone he'd just taken. He made the conscious effort to soften his expression. Not ten minutes ago, he'd promised Jack that he could tell him anything but he wasn't making that very easy at the moment, and he knew it. "I'm not angry," even as he said the words, he knew they were absolutely true. Whatever the situation was, it was obviously as hurtful to Jack as it was for his daughter. "I'm just asking you to tell me why you never mentioned her to me before, that's all," he said in a carefully neutral tone. "You said… we've talked about Laura. About Roan. Why not them?" This was in the recent past… Alice looked about forty.

"Because Alice's mother and I were never married," Jack told him. "We weren't even together long. It didn't take long for Lucia to decide she didn't want to grow old in front of me," he gave over a pained, speculative look, clearly wondering how long it would take Ianto to do the same. It was inevitable, wasn't it?

The younger man twined his fingers tighter into his partner's, taking his hand properly into his. He knew that was one of Jack's biggest fears, he just hadn't known that it had happened before. (His other fear, of course, was that he wouldn't live long enough to grow old. _Damned if he does and damned if he doesn't_, Ianto thought.) "What happened?" he asked.

The other shrugged. "She told me to stay away from them, so I stayed away. What should I have done?" he asked to the look the other was giving him. "_Forced_ my way into their lives?" He shook his head. "I stayed away for both their sakes and I didn't tell you about them because I didn't think it was relevant, I'm sorry." His tone was harsh, but the hurt, the grief in those blue eyes broke his partner's heart. He knew Jack. He knew how much he loved his children, how much he hated it that he'd missed out on so much of Jason's life, missed out on all of his and Laura's daughters' lives completely. With Alice's mother, he must have thought he finally had a chance to have a family, just a little slice of normal, only to have it stolen away again when she left him.

Ianto rubbed his thumb along his husband's fingers, a gentle caress, a reminder of the promise that he would always be there. "Do you see your daughter much now that she's grown?" he inquired softly.

"Alice doesn't want me in her life, or Steven's. Come on," he said, in a forcibly lighter tone, "we have work to do."

The Welshman nodded, but before he let go of his husband's hand, he gave it a last quick squeeze, a silent reassurance that he wasn't going to let this come between them. "I love you, Jack," he said softly.

He stopped. Looked at him. Really looked at him, as if he was searching for something... finally he just closed his eyes. Took a breath. "I love you too. No matter what..."

"Jack, I love you and I am never going to leave you."

"Promise?" his tone was so plaintive. So hopeful.

Ianto smiled. "Cross my heart."


	25. Day Five Part Three

**A/N:**

Ok, so if I'd slept on it one more night before posting, I might have paced a few things just slightly differently. I guess maybe I wanted to get through to Jack and Ianto's personal happy ending too much. Hope nobody minded too much…

Once again, thank you for the fantastic reviews this has gotten, I am so glad to have been able to offer up a 'solution' to the problems that, so far, haven't involved character death (no, I promise, I'm not planning on shattering the trust that has been placed in me... just not promising that there won't be some death in the last couple of chapters....)

* * *

**Chapter Twenty Five:  
Day Five, Part Three**

"_He who passively accepts evil is as much involved in it as he who helps to perpetrate it.  
He who accepts evil without protesting against it is really cooperating with it.__"_

Dr Martin Luther King, Jr.

* * *

"You ok?" Gibbs asked quietly when Alice brought Steven back over.

"Not really," she told him the truth.

Her son looked up at her. "I don't understand, Mum, why are you so mad at Uncle Jack? This isn't _his _fault. You said it was just a mix up, remember?" he gave her a pleading look, anxious to understand the things that were beyond a child's ability to grasp—things he couldn't have understood even if she had told him the truth. "You always get mad, every time he comes over, but when he missed my birthday last year you got mad at him for that, too, how come?" he wanted to know.

Alice looked away; she could never face him when she felt guilty about anything. It had been the same when he asked about when his Dad was coming home…She wrapped her arms around Steven's shoulders and tried to tell him that she wasn't angry at anybody, least of all his Uncle Jack, but she could tell he didn't believe her.

But he didn't press the issue either. He never did. "Can I go outside?" he asked.

"I think we'd better stay put," she told him.

"Fine then," he pulled away from her and went over to see what Martha was doing.

Alice ran her hands over her face and through her hair. This wasn't her father's fault, but she couldn't help blaming him. If he were an ordinary man, a banker or a policeman, even… why did he have to be the immortal, invincible Captain Jack Harkness?

"Kids pick up on more than we think we do," the soft sound of Gibbs' voice pulled her out of her reverie.

"Yeah, yeah, I suppose they do," she gave over a tight lipped smile; she watched the way Martha stopped what she was doing to talk to Steven, even though what she was working on had to be important. She turned back to the American again. "I never asked, do you have children, Mr Gibbs?"

He said 'no', but she could see there was a sadness in his eyes.

"It's funny, really, when my husband left me, I thought that was the end of the world… and now… this," she looked around. She looked at him, her smile warming. "Thank you, by the way."

"For?"

"Not asking. About me and the Captain. I appreciate that."

He shrugged. "If it was anybody's business one of you would have said something by now."

"It's not that. I'm just not ready for Steven to find out certain things."

He gave her a mildly speculative look.

"It's not what you think, I can promise you that," she told him definitively. There was no way any of them had guessed she was his daughter. She knew what they thought, it was written all over their faces. At the moment, she didn't care…well, not much, anyway. Torchwood was his problem, not hers.

"You're not ready to explain to him that Harkness can't die—and if I'm right, he doesn't age, either, does he?" Gibbs hazarded, keeping his voice low so as not to be overheard—not that anyone seemed to be paying attention.

Alice nodded. "How do you say something like that to a little boy?"

"I don't know. But eventually he's gonna notice something. Like I said, kids are smart," he got up to refill his coffee cup.

"That's what I'm afraid of, Mr Gibbs," she admitted, leaning back, watching her son...

Lois glanced towards Alice Carter and Jethro Gibbs. Everyone had witnessed the rather chilly reunion she and Captain Harkness had just had—Harkness who had been brought in, in a body bag not six hours before. Not that anyone had acted as if he was dead. Ianto Jones-Harkness had insisted on sitting with him, as if he was only sick and would be coming around any time. The others had carried on as if they expected him to walk in at any moment. Even Gwen told her not to worry about it when she'd asked.

At first she thought it was for the boy's sake (if the whispered exchanges were anything to go on, Steven might be Harkness' son, although if that were the case, it was obvious no one had known about it previously and they weren't very pleased to have been kept in the dark 'again'. She could only guess that the Captain made a habit of not telling his team things that they considered to be important. It was also fairly obvious that if the boy was his, Steven didn't know either, he kept calling Captain Harkness 'Uncle Jack.' He seemed rather fond of his 'Uncle', so Lois supposed that it was best to let him believe he was still alive, at least until today was over. She'd heard Johnson saying that he would be safe, they were only giving over the lowest ten percent of the kids, the kids they didn't want anyway, the ones that the government felt would never amount to anything. The statement struck a cord in several members of the Torchwood team. Apparently several of them had started out their lives in that lowest ten percent…)

And then suddenly Jack Harkness and his partner walked through the doors and Lois couldn't believe what she was seeing! Harkness was alive! No one else had looked the least bit surprised to see the Captain up and walking around, seemingly perfectly healthy, but when she asked Gwen, the Welshwoman told her that, no, it didn't mean everybody else from Thames House was all right as well, the virus was deadly. It was just that Jack couldn't die.

"_What do you mean, __he can't die? Everybody dies."_

"_Not Jack."_

"_Not ever?"_

"_No. Not ever__."_

"_How…?"_

"_It doesn't matter how. Now how about giving me a hand with these cables…" she flashed a kind smile. _

Truthfully, Lois was just glad to have been given something to do, to have been put to work instead of being shoved to the sidelines, because really what _could_ a junior PA do besides make coffee and serve biscuits? But she needed something more, something to keep her mind off how scared she was—something to make her feel like she was contributing. That was why, even though she didn't particularly care for Mr Dekker, something about him gave her the creeps, when she was asked to work with him, to assimilate his data and Torchwood's, that she dove at the chance to do something truly useful, to somehow make up for all those people…

"Fascinating, isn't it?" Dekker said to her when Captain Harkness and his partner re-entered the room. She'd finished helping Gwen with the bit of cable and had returned to the computer terminal she and Dekker were working from.

"What do you mean?" she asked of his question.

Dekker flashed that disarmingly friendly smile of his. "A man who can't die. It's fascinating. Don't you think so, Miss Habiba?" the sound of his voice made her skin craw. "Makes you wonder how he does it."

"Yeah, sure, I suppose." She went back to work…

Gwen was the first one to meet Jack and Ianto when they came back in the room.

"Later," he said to the look on her face, before she'd even gotten to word one of whatever it was she wanted to say to him. Whatever it was, he wasn't ready to deal with it.

She stood her ground. "Not this time, Jack," she informed him in a quiet, angry tone. "What's going on?" she cast a not-so-surreptitious glance in Alice Carter's direction. "You owe us an explanation, Jack. Who is she?"

He started to speak, but stopped and looked around at the rest of his team. They were all expecting some kind of answer out of him too. He glanced at Ianto, but found no answers in his Welshman's expression… but maybe Gwen was right this time, maybe the rest of his team deserved better than his silence.

How many times had he and Ianto asked Sara to watch Jason for them before he'd offered her a job with Torchwood? And wasn't _he_ the one to insist that secrets were dangerous? What was it he'd promised Bobby not so long ago, about how if it was important he would tell them…?

So what were the left to think now, he wondered? That he'd lied when he said that or that he didn't consider his relationship with Alice important enough to mention, even if they'd missed the mark with the assumption he was pretty sure they'd all made…?

What came next, however, surprised all of them, especially Jack.

"Gwen," said Ianto quietly. "Leave it. It's all right." He glanced at the rest of their team as well. There would be a time and a place for lengthy discussions, but this wasn't it. All they needed to know was that whatever it was, it was all right.

Gwen regarded him carefully for a long, long moment before relenting, albeit reluctantly.

Ianto looked over to Sara; she was keeping her distance, no doubt intentionally, probably to avoid losing her temper at Jack. But she nodded, silently agreeing to let it lie for the moment.

Tim and Mickey went back to what they were working on, too; in the case of the former, it was a terse conversation with Abby over the webcam, telling her that he was not going to have a conversation with Jack about his private life in the middle of a situation. He looked relieved when Gibbs gave him a look of approval; the older man had already suggested that the best course was to let Harkness explain himself_, after_ the emergency was over, before jumping to any conclusions… _because you know what happens when you make assumptions…_ Gibbs had reminded them.

Wendy, who had been doing her best not to look at Jack at all, continued not to look at him. Ianto suspected that she knew more than she was saying. It was in her body language, the way she almost smiled when he told Gwen to leave it. He presumed she must have heard at least part of his and Jack's conversation in the hallway with that above-average hearing of hers. She just wasn't the sort to go advertising someone else's secrets… and he reckoned she probably wanted to watch Jack wriggle out of it himself with the rest of the team because he could have told them from the start exactly what he'd meant when he said Frobisher had taken steps to insure his cooperation. Instead, he'd done what he always did, he kept it to himself instead of asking for help.

Martha joined them, having sent Steven back to his mother and Gibbs again—the American took him outside, so he could get a little air, get away from all the tension in the room.

"Are you all right?" Martha asked Jack—but she was looking at his partner.

"You know me," the older man flashed a classic mega-watt grin her way. "I'm perfect."

Ianto rolled his eyes and headed towards the coffee maker; Martha smiled. She wasn't sure about Jack being perfect (or actually she was sure, he wasn't perfect, but that didn't change how much she cared about him), but at least things appeared to be back to normal between he and Ianto.

"All right," he said in Martha's direction, although he was making no attempt to hide the way he enjoying the view of his Welshman walking away. He still loved the suit… loved the man in the suit… appreciated him for what he'd just done, what he'd done a few moments before in reassuring him that he wasn't going to leave him the way Lucia had, he wasn't going to take away the things that mattered the most in his life, the things that gave his life meaning… his love. His family. "Tell me what you've got," he turned back to the woman he was actually supposed to be talking to.

She cleared her throat and steered him over to the computer terminal where Lois Habiba was working…

Lois looked up as they approached. "Captain Harkness," she tried to smile, to look as comfortable as everybody else did talking to a dead man, a man who couldn't die, but it was difficult to not think of him as the lifeless body that had been brought with them in the helicopters.

He gave over kind smile, like he understood her discomfort and wanted to ease it. He held out his hand, "Miss Habiba. Good to finally meet you in person," his tone was warm, sincere. "We owe you quite a debt. Especially me. Thank you."

"Just doing my job, Captain," she told him, feeling a sudden, awkward, rush of warmth overtake her as she shook his hand. She was just an office girl, a temp…and he was so much better looking in person (alive) than in his file photo…

"What have you been working on?" he asked her, sounding like he was genuinely interested in what she had to say. She began to understand why the people around him respected him as much as they clearly did, even when they appeared angry at him over personal issues; they probably wouldn't be so angry if they didn't care, she realized.

She cleared her throat; the others were gathering around as well, looking at her computer screen. "I've been inputting data from various sources, Captain. Mr Dekker has been studying the alien for forty years, and Dr Chase brought us… I mean _you_, sorry," she floundered a bit, but he didn't say anything, no one did, they just waited, patiently for her to speak again. "Dr Chase brought the results of the tests that were run on children in the New Jersey area, in the United States, on the first day."

"And?" the Captain asked.

"And I…well…" she wasn't the expert… she looked to Dekker.

"You're wasting your time," he answered her questioning look. "As fascinating as all this is—and it is—there's nothing you can do."

"_What?"_ Lois looked at him shocked. More than shocked.

"You son of a…" Sara began.

"I've been analyzing those transmissions for forty years," he cut her off, clearly regarding the young woman as if she knew nothing at all. "I know everything there is to know about the 456 and I'm telling you, this is all a waste of time."

"There's always something we can do," Jack told him—told all of them.

"What did you do then, forty years ago, Captain?" he replied. "Oh, don't look so surprised, I know you were there, I read the report. I know all about you, about Torchwood."

"I highly doubt that," said Sara in a cold tone.

"Let me see what you've got," Jack said to Lois. "How long do we have before they start taking the kids?"

"About four hours," Gwen told him.

Jack nodded. "All right, people, let's get to work. Who has the Torchwood servers up online?" he looked around.

"Over here," Mickey told him, unable to help himself but smile. Jack was back. They were all back.

"Bring that laptop over here! I need to see what you've got. Tim… do you have Abby on yours?"

"Got her right here, Boss. Bobby too."

"Jack!" Abby yelled through the webcam, feeling the same elation as Mickey. They were back!

Jack flashed a grin. "Ready for duty, Ms Scuito?"

"Sir, yes, Sir!" she grinned right back.

"Good, because I need you. I need all of you. _Ianto!"_

The young Welshman smiled quietly to himself. "All ready on it, Sir," he called back from the coffee station.

"The 456 are named after a wavelength," Sara told Jack, elbowing Dekker out of her way. "Abby and Mr Smith have been tracking it and we've analyzing the data you sent us from Thames House…"

"I'm telling you…" Dekker began.

"Would somebody hit him for me!" Abby yelled through the computer screen.

"It would be my pleasure," Wendy growled softly, giving Dekker a glower to shut him up long enough for the people who really knew what they were doing—the people who actually cared—to do their jobs.

…………………………………………………………

Alice Carter looked up, startled, when the young man wearing a shirt and tie, waistcoat—bloody dress shoes, even—handed her a cup of coffee. His face was unreadable, pleasant. Professional. She frowned. She didn't mean to, but she couldn't help it. She didn't think she could appear so unflappable if their positions were to be reversed, if she were standing there handing a cup of coffee to her husband's forty year old daughter.

"You look like you could use this," he told her simply. His tone was as cordial as his expression.

She took the mug. She didn't need more 'army coffee', but she supposed she appreciated the effort. Still… "You don't have to pretend, you know," she told him in the kindest tone she could muster; she didn't make eye contact.

"I'm sorry?" he seemed to genuinely not understand her comment.

"He told you, didn't he? Who I am...I mean, who I really am."

Ianto nodded.

"Well then, you know what an awful woman I am, don't you, wanting nothing to do with my own father, not letting him see his grandson even though he's done nothing but support us," she couldn't help the bitterness in her tone. It wasn't directed at her father, at least not entirely. She knew he'd only stayed away because her mother told him to, because she didn't want the constant reminder of her own mortality. He hadn't fought to see her any more than he fought to see Steven. He asked, but he didn't fight. He gave her enough money to live comfortabley, just like he'd done for her mum. He'd never realized that it broke her mother's heart to leave him…never realized that it had broken her heart that her father wasn't willing to fight for her.

She looked up at his partner. His husband. "You don't have to pretend to be nice to me. I don't expect it."

"Alice…if…I may?"

She shrugged; what difference did it make what he called her?

Ianto took a seat next to her. "Whatever's between you and your father isn't my business, Alice," he told her in a kind tone. An understanding tone.

She realized he must be an incredibly understanding young man to put up with someone like her father. "Did you know about me before today?" she queried.

"No. I don't imagine you knew about me, either."

She shook her head and took a sip of the coffee…blinked. It wasn't anything like the army coffee she'd had earlier.

The Welshman smiled. It was amazing what a difference it made when one simply measured things out properly. It never ceased to amaze him the way some people just dumped in coffee grounds and water and hoped for the best. "Your father appreciates it, too," he said of the coffee.

She smiled an almost real seeming smile back at him. "Doesn't it bother you in the least?" she wondered.

"Doesn't what bother me?"

"That I'm fifteen years older than you."

"Why should it?" he asked in too earnest a tone for her to think he was anything but sincere. "Jack has lived a very long time. I'm not sure how much of his past he ever told you…?"

She shook her head again and drank some more coffee before admitting that she'd never wanted to know any more about him than her mother told her. His expression gave the impression that she didn't need to elaborate; he seemed to gather that her mum hadn't ever had anything good to say about her father. _Which isn't true, either,_ Alice realized. It had just hurt her too much to talk about the good times they must have had, to wonder what she'd thrown away. She said as much aloud.

"I'm sure she made the choices she felt were best in the moment. Just like you are have."

She looked into the depths of her cup, but found no answers there. "I look older than him, you know," she said softly. "And I know that I'll keep on looking older and older until some day he buries me the same way he buried my mother. Even though she kicked him out of our lives when I was a little girl, he still came to her funeral. He still cried."

"He'll bury everyone he ever knows, everyone he ever loves, everyone who ever loves him," Ianto told her, his tone very quiet. "I can't imagine that burden. Can you?"

She opened her mouth to speak, but he was getting up. Johnson had just come into the room and was heading Jack's way.

"Ianto—I don't mean to sound awful, I do love my father. I just… I can't bear looking at him, knowing he'll never change."

"He didn't ask for immortality. He was born just as human as you and I. But… something happened and it can't ever be undone. He's a fixed point in time, Alice. But he's still human. He still loves. He still gets hurt. He even still dies, he just doesn't stay that way for long—and that hurts too." He gave over a tight lipped smile before excusing himself to stand by his Captain.

………………………………………………………..

"Captain," Johnson greeted him with an uncertain tone. "I only just heard you were…" she faltered. What did one call it when someone came back from the dead?

He merely shrugged in response without offering up any sort of answer to her quandary.

"Do you and your people have everything you need?" she asked.

"We're all set, thank you," Harkness' partner told her in a brusque tone.

She nodded. "I—I am not going to apologize," she told him and the young Welshman who looked like he would take particular pleasure in putting a bullet through her skull.

"Nobody's asking you to," the Captain replied; she doubted very much that he was speaking for the both of them.

"I was doing my job," she said anyway. Even she wasn't sure who she was really trying to convince any more. "I was protecting the state. I was brought up to believe in and _protect_ the state."

"You didn't do much good, did you?" Ianto asked her.

She swallowed, looking uncomfortable. "I was doing my job," she repeated.

"We're all on the same side here," said Jack. "We all want to protect the people of this planet. And we've all made mistakes, even me. _Especially_ me," he glanced at his partner. "What we did forty years ago… four days ago… it doesn't matter any more. What matters is _now_, fighting back, making sure they get the message to leave this planet and leave it for good."

"Jack, you'd better have a look at this," Sarah Jane spoke to him through the computer monitor before switching it over so he could see the news:

"The government claims it's 'Britain _back_ to normal.' Schools across the country are being reopened and parents are being urged to return their children to a normal routine. The inoculation program will begin at midday and World Health Organization has issued a statement guaranteeing the safety and benefits effect of the treatment…"


	26. Day Five, Part Four

**Chapter Twenty ****Six:  
Day Five, Part Four**

_We can't solve problems by using the same kind of thinking we used when we created them_

Albert Einstein

* * *

Johnson watched Harkness and his team working; they had to be the most hodgepodge group she'd ever seen, but they moved together more smoothly than any platoon she'd ever worked with. It didn't make any sense.

"Does Mr Smith have any idea where the alien ship is?" Sara asked Sarah Jane, through the webcam.

"We think they're using the moon as a cover," the older woman answered.

"It certainly wouldn't be the first time some alien has done that," Harry Sullivan added in a dry tone over her shoulder. "Nothing we have either down here or in orbit can touch it."

Behind him, Abby was pacing back and forth in front of the monitor. "There has to be some way to get to them." She stopped and stared into the screen. "You, Annoying Guy!" she snapped at Dekker. "There has to be something you're not telling us."

"You have my research," he began. They'd pillaged his research, made a mess of everything...

"That isn't good enough," Jack told him. "You've been studying these things for forty years. What _haven't_ you put in your notes?"

"Nothing, I—" he stopped speaking when he found the wrong end of a pistol bare centimetres from his temple. It was Johnson. He gave a pleading look towards Harkness, but it didn't appear as if the Captain or his team were going to defend him. "There isn't anything I haven't told you!"

"That isn't helping," Sara snapped, mostly in Johnson's direction, but her frustration was at more than the woman's less than subtle tactics. She looked at Jack. "What about cycling the wavelength back at them—?"

"Like feedback!" Abby latched onto the idea. "We could use their own signal to hit them back!"

Mickey was already typing, setting up the software...

"It won't work," Dekker told them. "Don't you think people all over the world aren't thinking the exact same thing? Do you really think you're _that _clever?" his tone was snide. "There is nothing you can do that hasn't been done already."

Johnson took a step closer pressing the cool muzzle of her gun up to his temple. "Is there _anything_ you haven't told us, anything missing or omitted from your research?" she demanded. "Anything that you might think would be important enough to mention if your life happened to depend upon it." The threat was obvious.

"No!" he yelped.

Jack stepped in. "Sara's right, this isn't helping," he told Johnson. "We still have…"

"Three hours," Ianto supplied the answer for him before he could ask the question.

Jack caught his gaze. Held it for just a half a heartbeat. Smiled. "Right," he said to Johnson, to the rest of them. "We still have three hours to figure this out..."

"Jack," Bobby slid over to replace Abby on the monitor. "I've been reviewing at the tapes from warehouse, from when they killed Clem MacDonald."

Abby looked at him.

"I've been trying to figure out why they killed him," he told her gently. In the moment it had just been another puzzle piece to fit into place, something to do, even it wasn't strictly useful—but when dealing with the unknown it was almost impossible to know what would be useful and what wouldn't, so it was better to treat everything as important..._thank you Gregory House…_ he mused. "Or at least to figure out how they killed him," he added to the look Jack was giving him.

"It was that sound," said Gwen. "They used that sound, or...or something..."

The Captain shot over a questioning look.

"We heard a sound," Sara explained. "When they 'disconnected' from Clem, there was a sound."

"I've got the recording here," Mickey brought up the audio.

The dissonance made Wendy recoil; Gwen gave her arm a squeeze.

"Are you all right?" Lois asked quietly; Martha gave over a concerned look as well.

"I'll be fine."

"What is that?" Tim wanted to know. It was horrible even to mere human ears; he was grateful when Mickey cut the volume.

Jack cast his gaze towards the 'expert.' "Well, Mr Dekker? What was that sound?"

"I don't know. It's new."

"Exactly," Bobby told them. "It's new. And apparently it's deadly, maybe not just to us."

"Wait… you mean… loop that frequency back them some how…?" Abby pieced together what he was suggesting. It was brilliant!

"We could use their own weapon against them," Tim nodded. "Jack, that just might work," he looked over at his boss. "If they're susceptible to the same signal they used to kill Clem…"

The Captain nodded. "It just might work," he agreed, a hopeful smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

"We just have to copy it somehow…" Mickey began thoughtfully. "And… and transmit it," he gave a speculative look in Jack's direction. "How're we gonna do that, though?"

"I'm not sure," the older man leant forward. He felt a hand on his shoulder. Ianto. His Welshman. Always by his side. "We'll figure something out," he promised softly. Ianto must be worried sick about Remy, Gavin's kids… Cade's. Their own children, if they failed, if the 456 returned some day.

"We're going to have to tap _directly_ into whatever it is they're using to broadcast their signal," said Sara. "If we miss the mark by even a little bit…"

"We know what wavelength they're using," Gwen said.

"It's not that simple," Jack told her.

"You know what you have to do, Captain," Dekker told him coolly. "The answer is so obvious," he glanced towards the door the American, Gibbs, had taken the boy out of earlier. "It's right outside that door," he added, brows raised.

"Captain?" Johnson queried. "What is he talking about?"

"Shut up," Jack growled, but Dekker was still speaking:

"The 456 use the children," he told Johnson, "to establish resonance."

"Oh my God," Gwen looked at them, her hand going involuntarily to her own stomach, the baby growing inside her.

Johnson looked at Jack. "Is that true, is that how it works?"

"Oh yes," said Dekker. "So that means all we need is a child..."

"No…" Alice was on her feet. "No… don't you dare. Don't you even think it!"

"Jack," Gwen prompted when all he did was stand there.

"There are other options," he said then. There had to be other options. "Bobby…" Jack said into the webcam, "I need you and Abby to start…"

"There aren't any other options," Dekker cut him off again. He looked at Johnson, "You need a child."

"Why?" Lois asked. "Why a child?"

"Centre of the resonance," the man explained. "Remember when you were a little girl and you used a magnifying glass to burn ants?"

She gave over a look of disgust.

"Well, maybe not you, Miss Habiba," Dekker smiled at her, that sleazy grin that made her skin crawl. "But the principle is the same," he looked to Harkness. To Johnson. "The sunlight is that signal, the ants are the 456 and the child is the magnifying glass… and oh that child is going to fry," he added with a soft chuckle.

"No way," Sara was the first to speak into the stunned silence that followed.

"There's no other choice," Dekker told her. "You have to use the boy," he nodded again towards the door Steven had gone out earlier with Gibbs, "if you want to save the rest of them. You do want to save the rest of them, don't you?" he goaded in Jack's direction. "Time is running out."

"No," Alice repeated softly. "No…you can't. You have to tell them _no!_"

"Captain?" Johnson asked him in an earnest tone. "_Is _there another option?"

"No!" Alice stepped closer. "No, there has to be another way! You have to tell them no. Please!"

"Jack," Sara was on her feet as well, standing next to Alice, looking like she was ready to back her up if he actually…

"I—I don't know," he answered the question honestly, looking desperately towards Tim... Mickey... Martha... they didn't look like they had any answers either.

"Dad!" his daughter grabbed him by the arm, forcing him to look at her. He turned, but didn't meet her gaze. Couldn't meet it.

There was another moment of stunned silence as the others digested what she'd just called him.

"Captain, one child or millions," Johnson reminded him. "If there's no other way…"

"Dad, no," Alice begged him. "Dad, you can't! It'll _**kill**_ him!"

"Jack," said Martha in a soft tone. "It will. It will kill him. And he's…he's your grandson," it was almost a question.

"I know it'll kill him," he answered her, Alice—all of them. His tone was cold, hollow. He couldn't look at any of them but he knew they were all staring at him, waiting for him to make a decision. He knew Ianto… God, what was his Welshman thinking of him now? What were any of them thinking? _What would the Doctor think…what would he do? _he wondered.

"There's no other way, and you know it, Captain," said Dekker, levelling a meaningful glance in Johnson's direction. "One kid or millions of 'em."

"No, please—you can't!" Alice cried.

"Jack!" Abby protested through the monitor, "Jack, you can't—you won't!"

"Jack," Gwen said his name, but he didn't look at her either, he just staring straight ahead. One child or millions of children...

Then he felt a hand on top of his; the touch was so unexpected…. He twined his fingers into his partner's and forced himself to meet his daughter's gaze. "The choice is between one child or millions, Alice, you have to understand…"

Tears trickled down her cheeks. He felt his own tears threatening to break free. Felt his partner's hand tighten around his. No matter what he would be there. He would still be there, even if…

"Dad, please," she begged. "Please, no. You have to find another way. _Please!"_

He looked at Johnson…at Dekker.

Someone said his name; he didn't know who. Ianto didn't move away from him, didn't speak. He held his hand.

"Dad…?"

Jack shook his head. "No," he said quietly, swallowing back the lump in his throat, scarcely meeting his daughter's gaze. He looked past her, at the rest of his team. "There has been enough death already," he told them. He felt Ianto's grip tighten on his. "Too much death," he said, standing up straighter, looking his daughter in the eye. "We'll find another way." His tone brooked no room for argument.

She shuddered and was too overwhelmed by relief to resist when he pulled her to him with his free arm—he wasn't letting go of his husband's hand. He didn't look at anyone else again, either, he just held his daughter tight in one arm and let her cry into his chest, something she hadn't done since her mother's funeral. That had been the last time he'd thought there might be a little bit of hope for them; he'd been wrong. He wasn't getting his hopes up this time, though. He just wanted to give her whatever comfort he could without expecting that anything would ever change between them.

"Captain," Johnson's voice cut through his thoughts. "If it comes to it, if you don't have another choice…"

"There's _always _another choice," said the Welshman standing next to him.

"There are still more of us than there are of you," the other reminded them. She found Captain Harkness' cold hard gaze locked onto hers. She didn't back down. "You can't die, but your people can, Captain. If you force me to choose between the lives of millions of children and just one… I'm sorry…" she said when Alice looked up at her. "I am _truly_ sorry. But if it comes to it and there's no other choice, I will act in the best interest of the state. The planet."

"An injury to one is an injury to all," Jack told her in a quiet tone. "And this is one fight you don't want to pick with me, Ms Johnson, because it's one fight you _will_ lose."

Sara slid in next to him. "It's a fight with all of us," she said. She wasn't the only one, they had all moved in towards their Captain.

"You're unarmed…" Johnson began, unable to believe anyone would seriously consider…

Wendy rose from her seat and moved to stand in front of Jack, between him and the rest of her teammates and Johnson and Dekker. Something in way she moved made those two uncomfortable… something in the way she held their gazes for just a moment before speaking in a silk and velvet tone sent a cold chill through even Johnson's core.

"If you're threatening us, than I suggest you consider something first," Wendy spoke softly and without malice, but her tone caused the hairs on the backs of the necks of every human in the room to stand on end. "When the bodies of the men you sent to New Jersey are returned to you, you will find that only fourof them were killed by bullets. What killed the rest is something you don't want to fight."

Johnson took an involuntary step away from the sound of her voice, the implication of her words. She hadn't felt the kind of cold primal fear that rippled through her when she looked into Wendy Shutten's eyes since she was a very little girl, convinced that there were monsters creeping through the darkness just outside her bedroom window. "I'm not threatening you, Miss Shutten," she gulped in a deep breath of air. "I—Captain…" she tried appealing to him as a soldier. An officer. "You of all people have got to realize that sometimes sacrifices _must_ be made in order to win a fight. Sometimes lives are lost."

"Yes. Sometimes they are," he agreed. "But not today. We'll find another way to win this." He looked at Alice. "I promise you. We'll find another way," he swore, much to Johnson's dismay, Dekker's displeasure.

"Thank you, Dad," she whispered back, oblivious in the moment to anything or anyone else in the room.

He pressed a soft kiss to her forehead, selfishly enjoying the fact that she let him, loving the way she pulled in just a little closer, just for one moment more, letting him hold her. Protect her.

Johnson regarded him a moment. Regarded Dekker. Alice Carter. She avoided looking at Wendy Shutten. There was nothing in her file… nothing to suggest… she cleared her throat and turned her attention back to Harkness. "I hope you do find another way, Captain, I really do," she told him earnestly. "If there's anything you need…"

"Yeah," his tone was bitter cold. "Get him out of my sight," he said in Dekker's direction. "Before I shoot him myself." There was absolutely no doubt in anyone's mind that he might if the man provoked him any further.

Johnson nodded. "Captain…"

"I know," he cut her off. "You're just doing your job." This time there was no sympathy in his voice, no understanding for the position Frobisher had put her in. He returned his gaze back towards his daughter. "You should go check on Steven," he told her softly. "Wendy… go with her. Keep an eye on both of them for me."

Wordlessly, she nodded, casting a long last baleful glare in Dekker's direction, in Johnson's. When she turned to Alice Carter, she softened her expression, backing herself down from the razor's edge she'd been walking, the moment between human and monster… it didn't seem to matter. Alice wasn't the least bit afraid of her.

"Come on," Wendy draped her arm around her shoulders. "I promise, it'll be all right."

"I know," she forced a smile. It was only partially forced. For all his faults, her father had never gone back on his word, never broken a promise to her. She looked back over her shoulder towards him, but his team was already crowding around him…

"Jack," Gwen laid a hand on his shoulder. "Why didn't you tell us?" her asked. "Why did you let us think…?"

"I didn't think you'd understand," he told her, told the lot of them. "Come on. We have work to do, people," he swiped his hand across his cheeks and looked to the beautiful Welshman standing next to him. "Ianto…"

"Two and a half hours, Sir," he answered the question in a brisk tone, but the look in those blue grey eyes told Jack everything he wanted to know. The pride brimming over in him… the love in his heart… his loyalty. He would always be there. No matter what, he would always be there. He gave the older man's hand another squeeze before letting go so they could get to down to work.

There was only brief pause before the others kicked into gear and started coming up with ideas…

……………………………………………………….

Gibbs looked up when the two women came out the door; it was obvious he'd missed something. Alice Carter had been crying. Wendy Shutten…he didn't want to guess what she'd been doing, not with the cold hard look she gave the soldiers who were kicking around a ball with Steven. She relaxed after only a moment, whispering something to Alice before jogging over, asking in a pleasant tone if they had room for a girl to play.

One of the men looked up at her with an appreciative smile; she was an attractive woman, after all… somehow, Gibbs got the impression she was using that to her advantage.

Alice joined him, leaning against the building.

"You ok?" he asked her.

She started to nod but had to choke down on a sob.

"Hey…" instinctively he reached out for her, resting a hand across her shoulders, bringing her in closer.

"I'm all right," she lied, accepting the stranger's comfort anyway. She looked over at her son. He was safe. At least for the moment, he was safe…

……………………………………………………

Jack accepted the cup of coffee gratefully from his partner's hand. They had been working nonstop for… he looked at the clock… two hours. For two hours they had tossed ideas around, suggestions, anything that didn't involve the loss of one more life. And for two hours not one person had asked him about Alice. Her mother. None of them had slept in days… eaten in God knew how long… none of them had even spared a moment to try contacting family members to make sure they were all right.

"You're running out of time Captain, and out of options," Johnson told him, needlessly; she'd rejoined the group after securing Dekker. "You're going to have to—"

"No," he told her. "Not yet. Bobby—" he looked at the webcam.

"Jack, you might want to have a look at this," Gwen called over. She and Lois had been monitoring the news for the last hour or so.

He didn't move, but Ianto walked over to see what they'd found. "What is it?" he asked.

"Digital 141," Gwen answered. "It's a pirate station."

"They're running a story about the kids," Lois explained. "They're telling parents to get their children home from school now, before it's too late. They seem to know something's going on."

"It's already too late," Johnson told them; her tone wasn't as cold as before, as hard. She looked up at Jack. "If they're scheduled to deliver the children at noon, the army has already mobilized. You have got to act soon or it _will _be too late."

"What's going to happen if they don't meet their quota?" Gwen wanted to know.

"My guess," said Johnson, "they'll start using force, start taking the children from their homes."

"That means a lot of people are going to get hurt," said Ianto.

"A lot of innocent people," Tim amended.

"Rhys and Nerys are still out there with a laptop," Gwen reminded Jack. "If we—"

He waved it off. "People are already starting to panic. We don't need to add to it, we need to stop it."

"Jack," Bobby's voice drew him back to the monitor.

"We've got it," Abby announced. Behind her Sarah Jane and Harry were both smiling, looking just as exhausted as everyone else.

"Will it work?" he asked. He almost didn't have to, not with the way Abbs was looking at him, triumph shining out of those green eyes of hers.

"It'll work," she told him anyway.

"Do it."

"Jack," Bobby's tone was one of warning, "this could take more time than we've got,"

"We'll make it work," insisted Tim; he cast a look towards Mickey.

The Londoner nodded. "Sara, we're going to need you over here," he said. "Martha, start inputting data over there…Lois, you and Gwen need to re-route some of those cables…"

"I can help," Johnson offered. "I don't know computers, but if you tell me what to do…"

Jack gave her a suspicious look, but then nodded. They needed every pair of hands they could get...

……………………………………………………….

Cold fear gripped Alice's heart all over again when her father's partner came outside. Johnson had called her men back to their posts almost an hour previously without a word of explanation as to what was going on and the look on Ianto's face gave her little reassurance.

"Jack wants to see you," he told her simply.

"Steven…?"

He shook his head. "He should stay out here. Wen… we need you too," he called over.

Alice's shook her head. "No…he promised…"

"Alice, it's all right," the young Welshman assured her. "I give you my word. Please. Trust us. Trust your father. It's all right." He glanced towards Gibbs, but either he was a better poker player than previously assumed or Alice had told him who she was to Jack already.

"I'll stay with him," the American offered.

Reluctantly, she agreed, swallowing hard; the lump of fear refused to go away.

……………………………………………………….

"Bobby, Mr Smith and I have used the information from Princeton Plainsboro," Abby explained to Alice, "to create a program that will mimic a child's brain wave patterns."

"You can do that?" Alice looked at the woman on the computer screen…at her father… and back again.

"Well… only with a very special computer," Abby grinned over her shoulder at Mr Smith. If he weren't sentient, it wouldn't have worked, they needed living brain waves to do it, at least in the amount of time they had.

"But we're not one hundred percent certain what will happen to the children," Martha cautioned in Alice's direction, before she could get too hopeful.

"What do you mean?"

"There could be an adverse effect on Steven," said Sara. "On all of them."

"The signal will start here, but it's going to go out through every single child, just like before," Bobby explained.

"And that should be enough to fry this thing's brain to a cinder," Abby added, clearly pleased by the prospect.

"We don't think the children will be permanently damaged," Martha told Alice. "We just wanted to warn you. It may hurt your son, the other children."

"There's no other way," Sarah Jane leant towards the webcam on her end.

Alice swallowed. Nodded. She felt her father's hand on her shoulder and leaned in towards him. "All right. You're running out of time, Dad. So you… you just do whatever it is you have to do before it's too late to save them," she told him through a fresh wash of tears.

"Wendy, this could affect you too," Bobby said softly. "You've heard them from the beginning."

"I'll be all right. Alice…"

She nodded, pulling away from her father to go be with her son.

Ianto laid his hand on his partner's hip; Jack rested his hand on top of his and twined his fingers into his. He looked around at his team finding the same things etched on each of their faces. Loyalty. Trust. Pride. Friendship. Love.

He keyed in the final command, then hit _enter _and pulling the young Welshman in close, praying they had everything just right. If they didn't, it wouldn't just be Steven who suffered…

* * *

A/N:

I apologize for not killing Dekker… I know I promised I would… it just doesn't fit in with the direction I'm trying to take Johnson (not as a future Torchwood employee, just a future human being)… BUT he will get what he deserves in the end.


	27. Day Five, Part Five

**A/N:**

**Thank you **again for the reviews! They are much, much, much appreciated!

* * *

**Chapter Twenty ****Seven:  
Day Five, Part Five**

"_Remember that all through history the way of truth and love has always won. There have been tyrants and murderers and for a time they seem invincible but in the end, they always fall -- think of it, ALWAYS.__"_

Mahatma Gandhi

* * *

One second Steven Carter was laughing, the next he was standing stone still.

"Steven—" Gibbs stopped short of the boy as soon as he opened his mouth and started screaming. He didn't appear to be in pain, he was still, just standing there with his mouth open like a living statue with sound coming out, a horrible dissonant screech.

Inside, Wendy collapsed to the floor, Bobby screaming out her name through the monitor, looking like he was ready to try and crawl right through, even after Martha assured him that she was still breathing, her pulse felt normal and her pupils appeared to be reactive. Other than being unconscious, she was fine...or at least she seemed fine. Ianto knelt next to her; Jack laid his hand on his shoulder… they would just have to wait it out, there was nothing they could do for her.

The door behind Gibbs opened and Alice Carter bolted out—she raced for her son, but he caught her before she got to him.

"No, let go!" she tried to pull away, near hysterical, but he held her fast. "Please! Please, he needs me!"

"I know…I know. Just calm down," he soothed, holding her. "Calm down, Alice. Calm down."

She swallowed, choking back another sob and took a breath. She nodded. He was right. He let go. She moved towards her son calling out his name, but he didn't seem to hear her. To even see her.

She fell to her knees in front of him while he just… just stood there, just like before, a horrible keening coming out of his wide-open mouth. "Oh God, what have they done to you?" she wept, almost afraid to touch him.

Gibbs knelt down next to her and laid his hands on her shoulders. He glanced back through the open door but all he could see was a huddle of people; it was hardly the time to ask what was going on. He sat with Alice and held her while she cried, while she waited…

And then as suddenly as the scream started, it stopped. Steven fell to the ground with a dull thud.

"Oh God no, please no…" Alice scrambled to get to him, to hold him. "Please be all right, please, please… Dad!" She yelled hysterically towards the building. "Dad it didn't work!"

"Hey…shhh, Alice," Gibbs reached over and felt the boy's neck, "Alice, he's alive. He's got a pulse."

She shuddered and clutched the unconscious child tighter to her chest as the others raced outside. Martha pushed her way through and knelt down next to them. "Alice… please… let me look at him, I'm a doctor…"

"Come on," gently, Gibbs pulled her away from her son; Jack was already there waiting… but she didn't go to him, she just hugged her arms around herself, staring down at her boy.

"Alice—" Jack tried to reach out to her anyway.

"If he dies," she warned him in an angry tone, tears still streaming down her face.

"Alice, he's _alive_," Martha confirmed what Gibbs had already told her. "He's just unconscious. I'm pretty sure he's going to be all right." She glanced up at the others; Ianto had stayed inside with Wendy, who had just been starting to come to when Alice screamed. "We need to get Steven inside," she instructed, nodding to Gibbs, since the boy's mother seemed to trust him more than she trusted her own father.

The American obliged, lifting the boy carefully.

"They've got an infirmary," said Martha.

"I'll show you," Johnson volunteered.

Alice gave her a look, but when Jack nodded, nobody argued.

Martha lingered back instead of following them in. "Jack, we need to find out what's going on with the rest of the children, we need to know if it worked," she told him.

"You stay here with Alice and Steven," he said. "The rest of us are going back to London."

"Wendy shouldn't travel, Jack," Martha told him, "not until I'm sure…" even as she was saying the words, Wendy and Ianto were coming outside to join them. "Wendy…"

"I'm fine," she insisted. "They're gone. I'm sure they're gone," she told the Captain.

He gave over an inquisitive look.

"It's like… like everything that's been pricking at the back of my head for the past week is just… it's gone. They're gone."

"Tim, get inside and confirm that with Sarah Jane, see if that super computer of hers is still picking anything up."

"Jack," Martha continued to protest. "Even if they are gone—"

"Bobby's in London," Wendy reminded her. "I promise, if I start to feel woozy again, I'll tell him. Jack, please, I'm fine. I want to go with you."

"Are you sure?" he asked.

"You can't—"

"I'm sure."

"All right," he nodded. Martha didn't like it, but… he trusted his team. Just like they trusted him, he trusted them. "Just take care of Steven for me," he told her—asked her.

Reluctantly, Martha nodded and went inside to look after Jack's grandson… she cast a quick glance over his shoulder. Grandson. He definitely had some explaining to do… she caught his eye. He smiled, that cocky little smirk of his.

Then he turned towards to face the rest of them. "Gwen, as soon as we get to London, I want you to meet up with Nerys and Rhys, get them back to Cardiff."

"Jack—"

He shook his head. "Cardiff and that's an order. Take Nerys home to her daughter, and make sure the rest of them are all right," he cast a quick glance over to his partner before looking back to Gwen. Ianto never would have asked Gwen or anyone else to look in on his family. He wasn't that selfish. "Check in on them and then get back to your own," the Captain told her in a tone that left no room for argument.

"All right," she agreed, reaching out and squeezing Ianto's hand briefly.

He flashed a tight lipped half-smile in her direction. "What about the rest of us?" he asked Jack.

"We've got a meeting with the Prime Minister." He caught Johnson's attention, as she was coming back outside, most likely to find out 'what next'. "Think I could get you to give us a lift back to London?" he asked her.

"It would be my pleasure, Captain. One question," she said as she got back to the knot of people gathered around him. "What do you want me to do with Dekker?"

Jack just smirked; she really shouldn't tempt him with questions like that. "Could you hang onto him for a little while?"

"How long?"

He shrugged.

She gave him a wary look, but agreed that she would arrange for suitable accommodations…

"I'm almost afraid to ask what you're planning," Mickey said quietly at his elbow.

Jack said nothing.

"Captain?" Lois appeared at the other elbow. "What about me?"

He paused a moment. "I guess that's up to you, Miss Habiba. You want a lift back to London with us?"

She started to nod.

"Of course, it might mean people would start to think you're with Torchwood," he added with a merry grin.

"I—I wouldn't mind that," she told him quietly, teasing mostly, because there was no way…

He just grinned and held out his hand. "Welcome aboard."

She blinked. "Are you serious, Captain?" Even if Gwen had said...it couldn't be that easy...could it? They were Torchwood, she was just an office girl!

Captain Harkness was still grinning. "I'd say you've passed the interview process, wouldn't you?"

"Now wait 'til you see what you have to do to get a raise," Mickey teased her.

"Funny," Ianto looked at him deadpan. "I've never had any problems passing my performance review."

Lois looked from one to the other, up at the Captain, and back to his partner again, trying to figure out how serious any of them really was.

"Don't worry," Sara confided softly, "You'll get used to it."

"If we didn't laugh when we could," Gwen added in a kind tone, understanding the look of confusion on Lois' face, "We'd never make it through when things get rough."

Lois nodded; that made sense.

"Jack," Tim hollered when they came back in, "Sarah Jane confirms it, the 456 are gone."

"There are reports coming in from all over the world," she said through the monitor. "Every child stopped, just like before and made that…that keening sound," she used the best word she had to describe it. "It lasted for forty five seconds, then it stopped. They all just…just stopped and collapsed. So far there aren't any reports of any injuries."

"I've got Princeton Plainsboro hospital on the phone," Bobby told him, sliding in next to Sarah Jane. He'd placed a call to Lisa Cuddy almost an hour ago, telling her to get into work, to keep an eye on the kids. He'd promised her that when it was all over she would know more than she wanted to, as if she hadn't already seen things she would rather not know existed. "They've started running tests on the children who were patients in the hospital when it happened," he said to Jack.

"And?"

"It'll be at least a half an hour before they can tell me anything. But so far nobody thinks there's going to be any lasting harm. We did it, Jack. We really did it."

"As if there was every any doubt!" Abby chimed in next to him, a broad grin plastered across her face. She winked at Tim through the monitor.

"Captain," Johnson nudged him, "the helicopters are ready when you are."

He nodded. "Keep on it, Bobby—good work. Everybody," he added, his gaze taking in all of them, "good work." This time he wasn't surprised when he felt Ianto's hand wrapped around his… he allowed himself just a moment to look at beautiful blue grey eyes. _I love you,_ he thought in the younger man's direction… but it was so much more than just love, it was something he couldn't describe… He gave his hand a quick squeeze. "Come on, people, we still have a mess to clean up!"

…………………………………………………………….

Jack took the lead into Number Ten with Ianto just behind him, to his right. Mickey, Sara, Wendy, Tim, and Lois followed… Johnson was with them, although she lingered towards the rear of the party, aware that she didn't belong, but there because she was tangled up in the whole thing now, whether she liked it or not. She had assisted Harkness, Torchwood, instead of fulfilling her duty to stop them from interfering in matters of the state. She'd failed. But in failing, she had been a part of saving millions of children, possibly hundreds of civilian lives because she had no doubt that people all over the world would have fought back. Had fought back. It would have escalated. There had been a few causalities. Without Jack Harkness, there would have been more.

A pair of guards stopped them in the lobby.

"**Torchwood**," Jack announced. "Jack Harkness, Ianto Jones-Harkness, Sara Sidle, Timothy McGee, Mickey Smith, Wendy Shutten, Lois Habiba and…" he looked at Johnson.

"It's Camille," she told him in a quiet tone. She wasn't a part of his team, she wasn't Torchwood… except she _was_ there with them. And for good or ill, Harkness had accepted that and included her. She was fairly certain her inclusion didn't please the rest of his people, least of all his partner. But one thing Frobisher had been right about, Jack Harkness was a man who played by his own rules. She supposed when one was immortal, one might have that luxury…

He nodded briefly in her direction before returning his attention to the guards. "And Camille Johnson. Trust me, the Prime Minister _will_ see us."

There was a moment of silence while they considered whether or not they wanted one more fight… then a brief hold up while one of the guards conversed with his superiors. In short order they were passed through after it was ascertained that none of them was armed. Johnson had been, but she surrendered her weapons because Harkness told her to and he was without question in charge there.

Upstairs in the conference room, the Gold Command meeting was still in session. Around the world, children had begun waking up, seemingly with no ill effects from their most recent experience. As yet no one knew or understood what had happened, they just knew that the 456 were gone—which was more than the general population of the planet knew. The 'ambassador' Thames House had convulsed before seeming to explode, then it vanished in a pillar of fire, just like it had arrived. There was no trace of it left in the tank.

Prime Minister Brian Greene was anxious to get rid of UNIT and the American general. After all, they had technically been in charge, the Americans, so when the dust finally cleared, he would be able to blame it all on them. He was blameless… he was about to have that illusion (or delusion, perhaps) shattered.

He rose smoothly to his feet when Harkness came in with his team… it included the temp girl from the Home Office, Torchwood's little mole. Easily dealt with…

"Mr Prime Minister," Jack greeted him in a cool tone.

"Captain. So nice to finally meet you in person," he gave over a smile that anyone else would have found convincing. "I wish to apologize of course for the unfortunate events in Cardiff, I've only just become aware…"

"Shut up," Jack told him. "A man like Frobisher didn't have the authority to order my execution. The executions of Ellen Hunt, Andrew Stains and Michael Sanders. There were British citizens, Mr Greene and you had the executed for something they did forty years ago—something they did under order from the British government."

"I swear, I had no idea… I was just a child myself in 1965."

Brigit Spears stood up. "You gave John a blank page." She turned to Harkness. "I saw it, Captain. John was acting with the Prime Minister's authority." He gaze raked over Lois, clearly she was wondering how long Ms Habiba had been in Torchwood's employ. "John Frobisher was a good man, Captain. He was doing what he thought he had to do…" she cleared her throat. Looked away.

Jack's eyes narrowed; he understood. Something had happened. Frobisher was dead.

"May I remind you that you are responsible for the deaths of almost three hundred people at Thames House?" The Prime Minister said said then in a tone. "You Captain, not me. If you hadn't goaded them…"

Ianto stepped up next to his partner. "If you had called us in the first place, Sir, if you had accepted any one of our attempts to help you, those people _wouldn't _be dead. Their deaths are on your head, not ours. Not Jack's."

"You have to understand…" one of the women tried to tell them. "We were all under pressure…those aliens…"

"And we're the alien experts," Jack reminded her. "You needed us. You still do."

Greene cleared his throat. "What is it you want, Captain?" he glanced around nervously, but there was no one in the room who was in any less of an uncomfortable position. They had all said things, done things, that their constituents would never understand.

"I want you to listen to me, all of you." He glared at each person in the room, his gaze falling particularly on Brigit Spears. "The next time something like this happens—and it will—you call us."

"I had to protect…" Greene began.

Jack cut him off: "If you had called me, I would have kept your little secret, Mr Greene."

He opened his mouth, but then shut it again, not seeming to know how to respond.

"Let me tell you my little secret," said Jack, lowering his voice just hair. "In two thousand years… in one thousand… in five hundred years, _no one_ will remember your name_. __**Any**_ of your names. You are blips in time. Your secrets aren't important to me. I'll out live them, out live all of you, because _I can't die_." He paused a moment to let his words sink in. "I have seen the future of this planet, of the Human Empire. So believe me when I say that in a hundred years' time the only people who will care that you existed at all will be your descendants and even they'll forget your names eventually. By my time, the only people who care about the British Empire at all will be historians and archaeologists. I want you to remember that the next time I offer you my help. I want you to remember that _all _I care about is the survival of this planet, the human race, because I've seen the future. You need us." He glared around the room. "In the meantime, whatever criminal charges you've brought up against Miss Habiba will be dropped. The same goes for the rest my team, their families and their friends. Am I making myself perfectly clear?"

Greene looked pale. "Yes. Yes, Captain, I think I understand."

"Somehow I doubt that." He turned on his heel and left, his team trailing after him. No one made any attempt to stop them.

……………………………………………………………

It was a quiet group that loaded themselves back into the military transport Johnson had 'arranged.' She'd already given them the address in Ealing where they were to pick up the rest of Harkness' team.

"What now?" she looked over to him; she couldn't help but notice the way that he and his partner were sitting, shoulder to shoulder, leaning against one another.

Harkness regarded her a moment. "Your career is probably over."

She almost laughed. "It was over the moment I agreed to help you, Captain." She was aware of the weary look his partner was giving them both.

So was Jack. "The rest of you are awfully quiet," he observed in a forcibly light tone instead of addressing either Johnson's question or Ianto's dour expression.

"Did you really mean what you said back there?" Sara asked him.

He gave over a questioning look.

Tim answered it. "How we're all just blips in time. How in a thousand years…five hundred years… no one will even remember anyone's names..."

"I'll remember the people mattered, Tim," Jack told him, although his gaze took in all of them. He would remeber each and every one of them.

"No you won't," said Wendy. "In a thousand years…"

"I'll remember you," he promised her. "_All _of you," he slid his hand over and rested it on his partner's knee; Ianto took hold of it, twined his fingers into his. "I won't ever forget… how could I? You… all of you… I am so proud of you. I won't ever forget that."

………………………………………………………..

"Captain…" Johnson called to him as Jack and the rest of his team piled out of the jeeps in front of Sarah Jane Smith's house.

He nodded for the rest of them to go on in… although Bobby and Abby had already met Wendy and Tim on the front lawn. He smiled a moment as the two couples were reunited. It had been a harrowing forty eight hours, he was glad to see them back together, gladder still to know that Gwen had reached Rhys and was on her way home, that in a few more hours Nerys would be with her daughter. By tonight, he and Ianto would be home.

Johnson cleared her throat.

"Sorry."

"It must be nice," she surprised him by saying. "Having someone miss you when you're gone."

"You don't have anyone waiting for you?"

She shook her head. "This is my life. Was my life. Captain… I… what I said before about not apologizing…"

He waved it off. "No apology necessary."

She started to say something then seemed to change her mind. She forced a smile. "You should go be with your people, Sir."

"Why don't you come see in me in six months."

"I beg your pardon?"

"You're good at taking orders. At giving them. What I need are people who can think for themselves, people who ask questions, not just blindly do what they're told to do. It will take more than six months to learn to do that—but if you're still looking for a job in six months come see me and I'll find a place for you."

She hesitated. "May I speak freely Captain?"

"Please."

"As much as I appreciate the offer—you're right, it's what I was going to ask—I don't think… your partner…" he would never accept her and even if Jack Harkness was in charge, a law unto himself, he woudln't go against the wishes of the man he lived with. No one would.

He just smiled. "You let me worry about Ianto. You worry about being someone I can actually use. And even I can't, I'll find somebody who can," he added to the expression of uncertainty on her face.

She nodded. "I'll make sure your daughter gets back home safely."

"Thank you."


	28. Chapter 28 Aftermath

**A/N:**

Sorry this one is so long! I wanted to get everybody in... there's one more short one after this... or at least I think it's short, I'm still working on it.

* * *

**Chapter Twenty Eight:  
In the Aftermath**

"_When I stand before thee at the day's end, thou shalt see my scars and know that I had my wounds and also my healing."_

Rabindranath Tagore

* * *

Gwen took her son back into her arms with a grateful sigh. Next to her, Rhys smiled. He thanked her parents for looking after him. Then she looked up at Sam. "Thank you too, Sweetheart," she smiled.

He shrugged, "I didn't do anything special."

"Sure you did," _you put up with my mother…_ but she didn't dare say that aloud even though she could tell Rhys was thinking the same thing.

"I'll just get his things into the car," her husband offered, taking the quick cowards' way out. Still, some days aliens were easier to deal with then family.

"We should be going," Gwen began. "Thanks again, Mam."

"What really happened?" she wanted to know.

"It's… it's a long story," and she was weary to the bone. All she wanted to do was get her family home, have a long hot soak and go to bed. "All that really matters is that everything's all right now, yeah?"

Her father gave her a stern look; clearly that was not all that mattered. "Gweneth," he only called her that when he was angry with her, "that policeman friend of yours came around looking for you. Andy. He said…"

"Never mind what he said, Tad, it's all been sorted out. You'll see. Come on," she said to Sam, "we should be getting home."

"Gwen, please," her mother begged as her father caught her by the arm. "Why don't you ever talk to us anymore?"

"Look, I'm completely knackered, why don't you two come over on Sunday for dinner and we can talk then, all you like, I promise," _please forgive me, Darling,_ she thought in her husband's direction. But it worked like a charm. Her father let her go and she and Sam made their way to the car as fast as they could.

…………………………………………………………

Jethro Gibbs said his good-byes to Alice and Steven Carter and turned around. Abby was giving him a _look_… "What?" he asked her.

"Nothing," she smiled innocently. "I just think you two looked kinda cute there for a second… in a creepy that's my boss's daughter sort of way," she added as an after thought.

Tim cleared his throat. "Well. Erm. Would you like to come back to our place?" he asked the other man awkwardly.

"I don't know, McGee, does your place have a shower?" he inquired in a sarcastic tone. They were all pretty ripe.

Abby grinned broadly. "You'll love our apartment! I decorated most of it before Timmy moved in, of course. Only, our spare room isn't much of a spare room…but we'll figure something out."

"I'm not staying that long, Abbs."

"Well you have to stay at least a couple of days, Gibbs! I have to show you around Cardiff! And we can go visit Ducky. Oh God… and we have to find Myfanwy!" she said to Tim. "It's been a week and no one's been feeding her!"

"Abbs, she can hunt on her own," he said to her.

"Do I even want to know what kind of 'bird' you're talking about?" Gibbs asked them.

Tim favoured him with a wry smile. "Probably not."

"She's a pterodactyl," Abby told him anyway. "And she is not used to hunting on her own," she added in Tim's direction. "Jack and Ianto caught her almost four years ago," she explained to Gibbs.

"Where…? And when you say pterodactyl…?"

"She means a pterodactyl," Tim assured him.

"She was stuck in a warehouse," Abby supplied. "She came through the Rift. We have to find her, Timmy."

"Abby, at least three farmers have reported 'stolen', missing and mangled sheep in Barry in the last week and you know that's where she goes at night, we've tracked her there before. She'll be fine. Besides, what would you do if we found her? It's not like we can take her back to our place."

"Well Jack will just have to come up with something, he's Jack. It's his job to come up with answers."

"Why don't we let him and Ianto have a night off…we can discuss it tomorrow, ok?"

She sighed. She huffed. She gave in. They all deserved a night off. "Just as long as you promise me we can go looking for her tomorrow. I need to know she's all right."

"I promise, Abbs. We'll go looking first thing in the morning." He gave his old boss an apologetic look.

"Do you think Janet's ok, too?" she asked him.

"I'm sure she's fine, too."

………………………………………………………………..

Gil Grissom opened his front door; a military jeep sat in the street and Sara stood on his porch. She looked haggard, exhausted. But when she smiled at him her whole face seemed to light up.

"Can I come in?" she asked.

He looked past her one more time at the jeep, recognizing her boss, his partner… a couple of her co-workers. He stepped aside and let her into the lounge. Harkness flashed a grin his way and waved, as the driver pulled out.

"Sara?" he questioned. More than haggard, she looked like she'd been through hell and back. He wondered how much of that had to do with the events of the last week.

"Are you ok?" she asked him; she seemed to be lingering back, just a little more than usual.

"Me? Are _you_ all right?"

Her grin broadened. Warmed. She took a step closer. "I am now. But I wouldn't mind a shower."

He nodded, but reminded her that she didn't have anything to change into, she'd taken her clothing… she didn't seem to have brought it back with her.

"Mind if I borrow a shirt?" she asked; all she wanted to do was curl up in his bed and sleep for a week anyway.

"Of course not. But…Sara," he took her gently by the arms. He ran his hands down her battered, bruised arms until he was holding her hands. "What happened? Where have you been?"

"That's… it's a really long story, Gil," she told him truthfully. "But if you'll order some Chinese and let me take a shower, I promise that I'll tell you everything."

He gave her a speculative look. "You told me you work was classified."

"After today…the last week… I've realized that some things shouldn't ever be kept a secret," she leant in and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. "At least not from the man I want to share the rest of my life with."

He blinked. "Does that mean…?" he hadn't brought up the subject of their stalled engagement since she told him she wanted to take it one step at a time. Friendship. Dating. He hadn't even broached the subject of moving in together. "Are you saying you…?"

"I want to marry you, Gilbert Grissom. I want to live the rest of my life with you because I love you and I can't imagine my life with anybody else. That means there are some things about my life, my job, you need to know, starting with what really happened this week. With what almost happened today. What Torchwood stopped from happening." She wiped the moisture from her cheeks.

All those children… and all, apparently, so some aliens could get high… _shooting up kids… _they were literally shooting up with human children. They only knew it because Jack had had Mickey hack into the internal feed, just so he could see for himself that the 456 had really vanished. That they were really gone. She was sure they were all going to be looking at the night sky just a little more wearily for the next few months anyway.

"Sara?" Gil's voice brought her back to where she was… his apartment. Him.

"Just hold me a minute? Please?"

He wrapped his arms around her and held on tight without asking any questions; she would talk to him when she was ready and no matter what she had to say, he would listen.

…………………………………………………………………

Jason bolted out of the house at the sight of the SUV pulling up into the drive. **"PAPA!! TAD!!"** he cried as his parents climbed out.

Jack pulled his son up into his arms and held on as tight as he could, his eyes closed tight as well against the tears that threatened to overwhelm him. Against everything that threatened to overwhelm him.

"Papa! Squishing me!" the boy protested into his shoulder.

He loosened his hold, but didn't let his son down, "Sorry about that kiddo," he shifted him over to his hip and pressed a soft kiss to his forehead. "I just missed you so much…"

"Why are you crying?" Jason wanted to know.

"'Cause I'm so happy to see you," Jack gave him another, gentler, squeeze. He didn't know how to say how afraid he was that he would never see him again, how when he did see him, he was reminded of everything he had never had with his daughter, would never have with his grandson…how sorry he was over everything he'd lost already with Jason. How grateful he was to have him, here, now… "I love you," was all he could come up with.

Jason smiled, "I love you too," he hugged him tight. "I love you too," he said to Ianto over his Papa's shoulder.

The younger man smiled and leant over, pressing a kiss to Jason's forehead, encircling his partner's waist with his arms. He spoke in Welsh to tell Jack's son that he loved him too, he always would, no matter what. Jack snaked his free arm around him a moment…

But by then Ella was at the front door with Seren; Jack carried Jason into the house and she handed her granddaughter off to the younger of her two fathers. "It's good to have you back—both of you," her gaze took in both men.

"It's good to be home," Ianto told her, snuggling his daughter in close to his chest.

"I've ordered in Chinese," Ella told them. It was typical of them both to forget to eat. "You two should get cleaned up. And by that I mean _just _a shower, gentlemen," she said that more in Jack's direction than his husband's.

He grinned, "No promises, Mom," he winked. But then he kissed her cheek. "Thanks for taking care of them for us," he told her softly.

"It was my pleasure," she eased Jason away from his father and told him to go wash up for dinner. "Which will be here in fifteen minutes," she reminded Jack and Ianto. But she couldn't help but smile. She might never understand what her son saw in the quiet Welshman that he hadn't seen in Roan—they were so alike in so many ways—but she couldn't deny that they were good for one another.

…………………………………..…………………….

"I just called to make sure you two made it home ok," Jack told his daughter when she picked up the phone on her end. He'd showered and food had arrived, but he needed to know she was all right. He needed to hear the sound of her voice.

"We're fine, Dad. Thank you."

"Steven…?"

"He slept most of the way home. Ate a huge supper," she laughed, just a little. She was still shaken, he could hear it in her voice. She might even still blame him for what had happened… he supposed it was his fault. She was his daughter. If she was someone else's kid, she wouldn't have gotten caught up in everything. "What about the rest of the children?" she asked him, then. "I know what the news is saying, but… is it really over?"

"It's really over," he promised.

"Thank God."

"Look, Alice, maybe we could… sometime… just you and me… maybe dinner…?" he asked hopefully.

"Please don't, Dad. There's no room in my life for you."

He swallowed hard, closed his eyes. He had tried so hard not to hope, but… "I ah… I guess… yeah. Ok. I shouldn't have asked. I'll just stop by… you know… Steven's birthday…if…if that's still all right?" _please… please don't take that away, too… _

"I know he'd love to see you, Dad. I just can't do more than that. Please try to understand. It's not you. It's… every time I look at you all I see is myself growing older. I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize. I understand." He hung up before she could tell him that she loved him…

…………………………………………………………

Ianto settled Seren back into her crib. He remembered when she'd looked so tiny in it, but now… he smiled. She was growing up so fast. His smile deepened when he heard Jack slip into the room…felt him slide his arms around him. He leant back into his chest and laid his hands over his partner's arms, revelled in the strength of those arms and how they made him feel. Safe. Secure. Warm inside. He closed his eyes feeling as if he could stand there forever, just being held. "Is Jason in bed?" he asked at length.

"Yeah, just tucked him in," he laid a soft kiss to his partner's neck.

"I should go say good night."

Jack nodded. Neither moved.

Finally Ianto turned in his arms and draped his own arms over his husband's shoulders. He looked into those blue eyes of his. Those amazing blue eyes. He knew about the phone call to his daughter, even though he knew Jack hadn't wanted to tell him. He had, he'd been too upset by it not to. He'd helped him pick up the pieces… there were still pieces that needed picking up.

"You make me so very happy, Jack," he told him softly. "I want you to know that. I want you to know that I love you…_so _much." He leant in, pressed his lips to the older man's mouth for a soft kiss. "I will never leave you Jack. Not ever. I love you with all of my heart and nothing is ever going to change that."

"Even when you realize that you're growing old while I stay the same?"

"Even if I live to be a hundred."

He kissed his Welshman again. Nothing in the world would make him happier than to have him live that long. But no matter what, in the end, he would still lose him. Ianto would die. He would bury him…he would move on, and be left with nothing memories of the best days of life… Earth. Cardiff. A man with blue grey eyes and a sharp wit.

"Why don't I go tell Jason good night," the younger man suggested quietly. "And… then maybe meet you in our room?"

Jack smiled. "Ten minutes?"

The other chuckled, "That's ten minutes and counting," he told him.

Jack pressed another kiss to his lips before exiting their daughter's room. Instead of going straight to their bedroom, however, he detoured down to the kitchen because he was very sure there was still one can of pineapple left in the cupboard…

…………………………………………………………………….

Having his former boss asleep in his spare room was no easier, Tim decided, than trying to sleep in Gibbs' spare room. In fact, it might even be more intimidating.

He would have gotten up to go write, but the spare room was also his office and there was no way he was going to try writing with Gibbs in there. He sighed. He rolled over. He still couldn't sleep.

He supposed he could sneak into the spare room and grab his notepad off his desk and go into the kitchen and jot down some ideas… at the very least, that was better than tossing and turning all night.

"Timmy?" Abby said as he started to get out of bed.

"Sorry, didn't mean to wake you."

"I wasn't asleep. I was thinking."

He turned so he was facing her; there was something about the tone of her voice that worried him. "What were you thinking about?" he queried, trying to tell himself not to worry at three o'clock in the morning.

"Us."

He paused a moment before repeating the word back at her as a question: "Us?"

"You know, as in you and me."

"I know what 'us; means, Abbs, I just… you're not having second thoughts are you?" he asked, trying very hard not to freak out.

"Yes. That's exactly what I'm doing."

"Abby…" he couldn't quite tell if she was being serious or sarcastic.

"It's just…what I said before, about you and me… you know, us, having kids…"

Tim blinked. "Kids?"

"You know, miniature humans… are you sure _you're_ awake enough for this conversation, Timothy?"

"Yeah," he lied. "But ah, you wanna maybe tell me exactly what you were thinking?" he asked her.

"Just that… that maybe it's worth it. Having kids, I mean. Look, I know there's every chance…I mean… if any one of us had been in Thames House with Jack that person would be dead and that person could have been either of us—except that it wasn't, but it could have been. We could die at any moment. Weevils, Raxacoricofallapatorians," (she was the only person besides Jack who could say that word without stuttering), "Sontarans, Cybermen, you name it. We could be killed by any of those things on any given day! But we could die just crossing the street, getting hit by a bus, just like anybody else. We could get struck by lightening or… or number of stupid random things. And maybe our chances of dying by alien tech or eaten by an angry dinosaur is higher than the average person's, but being afraid that you're going to die has never stopped anyone from having kids before, so why should it stop us?" she asked him. "Unless… unless you don't want to now, after everything that's happened, because I would totally understand if that were the case—"

"Abby," he cut her off. "I would _love _to have children with you."

"Really?"

"Really."

"Good," said their groggy, grumpy houseguest. "Now that you have _that _settled, do you think you can go back to sleep so that _**I**_ can go back to sleep?"

"Sorry," they said, nearly in unison.

"Don't apologize. Just go to sleep," he grumbled, very carefully keeping his grin to himself.

…………………………………………………………………

Martha was only a little surprised to find Jack on her doorstep at eight o'clock in the morning. "So much for sleeping in," she teased, letting him in. She was still in her robe and slippers.

"I brought coffee," he offered, holding up the cup carrier from Starbucks. "Tom around?"

"In the shower."

Jack grinned (leered was more like it).

"Don't you go getting any ideas, Captain. You've got your own husband." There was just a hint of a question on that last word.

"He's at home sorting through the paperwork to get the Hub rebuilt," he explained.

"How bad is it?" she asked over her shoulder as she led the way towards her kitchen.

"I think we're looking at at least six months to even begin working out of there again," he told her the truth. He slid out of his coat and handed her one of the cups of coffee.

"Jack… your brother…"

"It looks like the vaults are intact," he told her. "So's the internal power supply." He waited for her to have a seat at the table before taking the chair opposite her. "I was able to trigger an internal lockdown before the bomb went off. That protected the vaults, my safe… it opened the cells," he was not looking forward to all those Weevils loose in the city. The only ones they took in were the ones that were bent on making trouble for the human population of Cardiff. Sooner or later, they'd have to be rounded back up again.

She nodded, sipped her coffee. "Can I ask… did you… did you feel it? The bomb, did you feel it, or did it just go black?"

"I felt it."

"Jesus, Jack."

He shrugged. "It wasn't my best day. But it wasn't the worst way I ever died, either."

"How do you do it? How do you pick up and move on after something like that?" because he had, hadn't he? He was sitting in her kitchen. He'd obviously been by the Plass… yesterday he'd saved all those children. And now he was having coffee with her as if it was any normal Saturday.

He smiled and reached over, laying his hand on top of hers. "I do it because of what I have to come back _to_. My team. My friends. My husband," his smile warmed. "Jason. Seren. I come back for the people I love. People like you."

"Is it really worth it?"

"Yes. Right here. Right now. This planet. This time. It's worth it."

"So," Martha took another sip of her coffee. "I'm sure you didn't come here so I could ask you macabre questions about what it's like to die. What can I do for you…watch it," she cautioned just as soon as his brows shot up. She was grinning. "I'm a married woman, remember?"

"Hey, the more the merrier…"

"Oi!"

He laughed. Then, "Actually, I am here for a reason, Martha," he told her earnestly. "Remember when the Doctor suggested you find a new job?"

"I appreciate the sentiment, but I'm not interested in being your second-string medic, Jack. Besides, Bobby's a fantastic doctor, you don't need me."

"You, Martha Jones would never be my second string anything," he assured her, taking a deep swig from his own cup. "And I'm not offering you a job as a medic."

She frowned. "What are you offering then…? Jaaaack…" she added to the look on his face.

He shook his head, continuing to smirk. "How would you like a job as head of Torchwood London?"

_"What?_ Torchwood…what?"

"I need someone in London, Martha, someone I can trust. It won't be like before, it won't be that big. Just you and a couple of other people keeping an eye on things for me here."

"Which other people?" she wanted to know.

"You'd get the final say on your own staff of course… but there are a couple of names I'd like you to consider," he admitted to the suspicious look in her brown eyes.

"Who?"

"Lois Habiba."

"Done."

"Camille Johnson."

Silence.

"Martha…"

"The woman put you in a block of concrete, Jack! And do not hand me some bullocks story about her following orders."

"I told her to come back and talk to me in six months if she was still interested in working for Torchwood."

"And you want to pawn her off on me? No. No way. I am not having her in my office!"

"Does this mean you'll take the job?" he queried, brows raised.

She sighed. She drank her coffee. "You knew I was going to say yes before you even got here, didn't you?"

He smirked. "I had a hunch."

"Fine. But I'm not having that Johnson woman anywhere near me. If she wants to join Torchwood, she can take her chances in Cardiff. Maybe Ianto will feed her to that pterodactyl of yours."

He chuckled; his Welshman had made a very similar suggestion when he broached the subject of Camille Johnson with him last night. "All I'm asking you to do is talk to her in six months—if she's still interested in the position. How much harm can that do?"

She narrowed her eyes at him. "All right. In six months she can come talk to me. But I'm not making any promises, Jack." She finished her coffee. "Now. How soon can Lois start?"

Jack grinned. "I'm picking her up in fifteen minutes," he drained the last of his cup and stood to leave. "Kiss that gorgeous husband of yours for me—"

"Hang on!" she grabbed hold of his sleeve. "Where are you taking her? Wait… you don't seriously expect me to work out of that dirty old warehouse do you?"

"I figured it would be a place to start."

"Fine, I'm not working all day. In case you haven't noticed it's Saturday."

"Since when do aliens keep banker's hours?"

……………………………………………………………

"Yes, Gran, I know it's a Saturday," Lois said into the receiver, hopping on one foot to get her shoe on. "It's a new job, and my ride will be here any minute."

"Want to know is what happened to that post you had last week? You said it was going to be long term," her grandmother protested over the phone. "You mucked it up again, didn't you?"

"I didn't! It didn't work out, that's all."

There was an exasperated sigh followed by an extended silence. "I swear, girl," she finally said, "If you don't find yourself a man…"

"Gran, please, I don't have time for this argument, not today." She swore under her breath when she passed by the window and saw Jack Harkness getting out of the big black SUV that had just pulled into the car park. "I have to go, Gran, but I'll call you later, I promise." She hung up without further ado and dashed out the door. Leave it to a man from the future to be early!

……………………………………………………..

Ianto spent most of the morning on the phone arranging for contractors to rebuild the Hub. The proverbial shit was going to hit the fan at Whitehall next week and he knew it; he wanted to get the reconstruction started before that happened. The problem was figuring out how in the hell to hire a work crew for a super secret base… and the answer was that Torchwood was going to lose a lot of his its secrecy. And maybe that wasn't such a bad thing, he mused. He shuffled the last of the papers into place. Jason was just coming down the stair.

"Where's Papa?" he asked.

"He had to go to London to see Dr Jones this morning."

"But it's Saturday!"

"I know, but you know your Papa."

"Always working," they intoned together.

Ianto chuckled. "He promised he'd be home in time for supper."

Jason sighed. He looked so much like his father when he pouted… which probably said more about his husband than his step son.

"Tell you what, I was going to go and see my Mam and sister today. Do you want to come along?"

………………………………………………………………

Lisa Cuddy regarded the couple on the other end of the video conference. It was early her time, but it wasn't like she was sleeping much anyway. "Is it really over?" she asked Chase. She was having a very hard time looking at his girlfriend.

"It's over," he told her. "Do you still want to know what happened?"

"I don't think so," she told them the truth. He had promised to tell her everything if she really wanted to know but all she wanted was to know that it was over. That her daughter was safe, that whatever had happened, it would never happen again.

He nodded. "Sometime next week the story is going to break, anyway," he said. Sara was right, the people had the right to know what their leaders were willing to sacrifice—what they weren't willing to sacrifice. "Lisa," he said, calling her by her first name for maybe the first time ever. "My boss is always saying that the twenty first century is when everything changes. The truth is that aliens have been visiting this planet for thousands of years. But this is some kind of turning point. We have to be ready. Not just Torchwood, all of us, everybody."

"There are some things I'm not ready for, Bobby. Some things no one is."

"Whether you're ready or not," Wendy told her softly, "things _are _changing."

…………………………………………………….

"Are you all right?" Ianto asked his sister quietly. They were sitting on the swing on the back porch watching Remy and Jason playing in the garden. Ianto had managed to get past his mother with only minimal explanations about last week. He was too relieved to realize that it was unusual for her not to have pushed him harder for answers. He knew Gavin hadn't said anything to her, he and Gav had spoken on the phone on his way over. He never would have suspected that she already knew that he didn't work for the Tourist Bureau.

Nerys looked up at him. "How do you do it, Ianto?"

"What do you mean?"

"How do you carry on? After everything you saw last week, how do you just carry on with your life?" She wanted to know.

"It's the only way to do the job I do, Ner. It's the only way I can be with someone like Jack."

"I barely slept last night. Every time I close my eyes, I saw that…that _thing_. Only instead of that poor little boy, it was Remy…"

He folded his arms around her while she sniffled; she was trying so hard not to cry. She didn't want the kids to see, she didn't want to have to try and explain, come up with a lie that they would believe.

"Have you talked to Mickey since yesterday?" her brother asked her.

"I don't want to talk to him. I want to know how you go to sleep at night. How you get up in the morning and have breakfast with your husband after you've watched him die and come back to life and…and keep on going without going completely mad!"

He held her tight a moment, considering his options. Her options. "I can help you forget last week, Nerys," he told her, "like we did with Dafydd." She knew they'd erased a whole year from his memory. "But you have to be sure it's what you really want, because once you take the amnesia pills, that's it, you won't remember what happened."

"I want to be able to sleep at night. I want to be able to close my eyes and not see those _things_."

He nodded. He understood better than she realized the desire to just forget...

………………………………………………………………

Dekker looked up when the cell door opened. He smiled at Harkness. The immortal man. "You've come to kill me." It wasn't a question.

"Nope."

He frowned.

Jack glanced at Dekker's empty lunch tray. "In a hundred years I won't remember your name. In about an hour, you won't remember mine."

"What?"

"It's called retcon, and I put enough of it in your… whatever that was… to erase the last forty years of your life. Me. The 456. All of it."

"Why?"

"Because death is easy—believe me I know. People are always killing me. But life…life is hard. So I'm sentencing you to live, Mr Dekker. Who knows, maybe you'll even get something right with the time you have left."

………………………………………………….

Nerys stared at the little two white pills her brother had given her. They were tiny, innocuous looking things.

_Take them with a glass of water and have a lie down. They're laced with a mild sedative… when you wake up, you won't remember anything from last week… _

She ran a glass of water from the tap. Just two pills and she would forget those horrible things…she would forget cuddling with Mickey in that old warehouse. She would forget that Jack had died…come back…died again… come back… She would forget the way he'd stood up to the aliens. She would forget everything they had all risked to stop them.

She would forget the part Jack played in what happened in 1965. She would forget the part she'd played in saving all those children yesterday.

She dropped the pills into the sink and dumped the glass of water in after them. She fished her mobile out of her jeans' pocket and dialled Mickey's number. She didn't ever want to forget the way he'd held her and told her he loved her, even if it meant she was going to have to remember how terrified she'd been.


	29. Epilogue

First off:** Thank you** to everyone who has read, reviewed, favorited/alert listed this!! And a **HUGE Thank You** to **Kitsa** for talking me through various scenarios while I got my head around what I wanted to write. (I am sorry I broke my promise to kill Dekker… he did deserve it, but hopefully losing forty years of his life was enough of a penance for most folks, considering his obsession with the 456. I really don't know why Ianto had to die in the cannon version, while Dekker survived, unless it was just to prove that the good guys don't always make it to the end.)

Secondly, although I "skipped" over Tim and Abby's wedding here, I do plan to write it. It will most likely end up as a multi-chapter piece in "**More Short Stories**".

More of Jack and Alice will be posted in "**Short Stories**." The order of events will be kept updated in my profile.

* * *

**Thank you again for reading!**

I am so very glad that so many of you have enjoyed this so much…  
it's been a harrowing emotional ride at times, but in the end, it was also very satisfying.

* * *

**Epilogue****:  
Three Months Later  
(early December, 2009)**

"_Children begin by loving their parents;  
as they grow older they judge them;  
sometimes, they forgive them__"_

Oscar Wilde

* * *

Sam looked up when the middle aged brunette came into the Tourist Information Centre. He didn't know why exactly Jack had insisted that the Information Centre be rebuilt and reopened, unless it was just the Captain's way of keeping him where he could keep an eye on him. If that was the case, Sam didn't mind at all. He loved working for Torchwood, even it was mostly doling out brochures and directing tourists to the nearest loo, accepting pizza deliveries and occasionally running to Starbucks.

He smiled at his newest customer. "Good morning, Miss," middle aged ladies seemed to like it when he called them that. "How can I help you today?"

The brunette returned his smile. "I'm looking for Captain Jack Harkness."

Sam almost stopped smiling. Jack _always_ told him when he was expecting somebody. "Erm... no one else is here right now, maybe I can help you?" he asked hopefully. He reached under the counter and hit the button to let the Captain know that he needed to tune into the internal security feed for the office, _right now_. It was one of the newer instalments, one of the new safety precautions. Not quite a panic button, but it made him fell better.

"I know about Torchwood." Both her tone and expression seemed kind, but…

The phone rang. Sam excused himself politely; it was the line from downstairs. Just the same he answered the way he always did, "Good morning, Millennium Centre Tourist Information Centre, this is Sam speaking. How may I help you?"

Jack bit back his snicker. "Send her down, Sam. It's ok. She's my daughter."

Sam's eyes widened; he'd heard, of course, but… "Yes, Jack, right away," he said quickly. He hung up the phone. "I'm so sorry, I didn't know you were…" he cleared his throat nervously. If she'd just identified herself… but he supposed she had her reasons. "There's a lot of construction going on downstairs, Ma'am. Please watch your step," he said as he hit the button to open the new secret passageway. "The lift isn't operational yet, I'm afraid," he added in an apologetic tone. The truth of the matter was that the Hub was still a mess. The Plass had been rebuilt first, to hide what was going on underneath.

"That's quite all right," Alice favoured him with a bemused smile. She wondered when her father had started adopting strays, because that was just what he reminded her of, a stray puppy that had wandered in off the street. She'd never known him to be that kind hearted.

_But when have I__ ever really known him,_ she wondered, as she picked her way carefully down the steps. The sound of construction in progress greeted her even before the huge cog door rolled aside; she recognized it as the same one that had been there when she was a little girl. Her mother had told her once that nothing could ever get in or out of that door… apparently she'd been right.

The amount of damage on the other side of the door was staggering. There was yellow 'caution' tape up everywhere, delineating clearly the only safe paths through the work… the debris. She'd only visited the Hub a few times as a child… the sudden memory of riding on her father's shoulders while someone laughed caused a wave of happiness to rush through her. It was followed just as quickly by a stab of pain. There had been a time when she was little that things had been so good, at least to a child's mind. But then it had all shattered, she and her Mum had new names and she didn't see her father again for so long…

A shadow moved over the floor; her breath caught in her throat when she looked up and saw the pterodactyl gliding by overhead. It circled once, looking at her as if it was trying to decide whether or not to tolerate the presence one more human in its territory.

"Her name's Myfanway," said a familiar voice. Abby, Alice connected a name to the face. "Don't worry, she's friendly," the dark haired American added.

"She is _not _friendly," said a man with the Australian accent. Alice didn't remember his name… he didn't stop to chat anyway, he was carrying a big box towards a set of white tile stairs that headed further down into the Hub.

"You're just sore because she doesn't like you," Abby teased after him. She turned towards their visitor. "Jack asked me to take you to his office," she motioned for the woman to follow her. "Watch your step," she cautioned as they made their way through the construction.

"I'm surprised to see a real crew down here," Alice remarked.

"Tell me about it," the other agreed. "But I guess somebody had to build this place to begin with," she added with a shrug. She had no idea how the crew was getting in and out. They weren't coming in through the tourist office and the lift from the Plass wasn't working yet. But Jack was Jack, so he must have some other way… besides, it was either that or they would have to roll up their own sleeves and start laying bricks and pouring concrete themselves. Not that _she_ couldn't do it, but Abby just didn't see most of the rest of her teammates in hard hats.

They were handling all of the 'sensitive' work, of course. Tim, Mickey and Sara were reconstructing the Rift Manipulator; it had been little more than pieces when they finally dug it out. She was working on a new security system that should prevent anyone from ever getting a bomb into the Hub again, as well as rebuilding the Rift monitoring system. The programs were all still on the server, but the equipment had been destroyed.

Bobby had the medical bay and Ianto was digging out the archives. More of it had survived than they'd expected, thank goodness. Gwen and Wendy were helping Jack catalogue the alien tech to make sure that everything was accounted for in the debris.

"He should be up in a minute," Abby said to Alice, once they reached Jack's office. It wasn't where it used to be; since they were rebuilding the interior practically from scratch anyway, they were making some changes to the Hub's layout. There was going to be a real lab for one thing and a bigger medical bay with a separate autopsy room, so live patients wouldn't have to be treated on the same slab that Bobby used to examine dead ones. "Can I get you anything?" she asked before leaving Alice there alone.

"No. I'm fine. Thank you," she forced a tight lipped smile. It wasn't that she didn't appreciate the gracious attitude, she just didn't understand it. In the other woman's place, she was sure she would have a million questions for her… but Abby just nodded and said that if she did need anything she should feel free to ask.

Alice watched her departure and wandered over to her father's desk. She smiled. It was a cluttered mess of paperwork, bits and bobs, a few framed photographs… two coffee cups, both empty. The bookshelf behind it was in no better shape. "You won't win any awards for neatness, will you Dad?" she mused aloud as she walked around the desk to run her hand over the soft wool of the coat hanging on the wooden stand behind his chair. She remembered being fascinated by it when she was a little girl… it was like that coat was a part of her father's personality, a part of _him_.

She turned back to his desk—and stopped short when she got a clear look at the photographs grouped there, right where he could see them when he looked up from whatever work he did while sitting in the worn, padded chair. (She would never know exactly how many second hand shops and antique stores Ianto had been in and out of looking for just the right office furniture for his partner.)

Alice picked up one of the photographs; it looked like a school portrait. The boy was about Steven's age. He had dark hair and bright blue eyes, her father's dimples… there was another picture in which her father's partner was holding a baby, a little girl if the pink bonnet was anything to go on. A third photograph pictured the same little girl, perhaps a few months older, with the boy from the first picture…

The sound of heavy boots on hard concrete drew her attention away from the photos on her father's desk. He stood in the doorway, carrying two coffee cups. The look on his face was one of guilt. It answered the questions she had buzzing around her head as clearly as any words ever could have, but she asked the first of them anyway.

"Dad? What is this?"

"Their names are Jason and Seren," he handed one of the cups of coffee towards her.

She accepted the mug. "Are they…?"

"Mine."

She opened her mouth and then closed it again. She took a sip of coffee… Ianto must be in somewhere. Her father had never been able to make a decent cup of coffee.

"This isn't how I wanted you to find out," he told her.

"He looks the same age as Steven, Dad."

"He is. Alice…I didn't have him until just a couple of years ago," he began, as if that somehow excused him for not telling her about Jason. She looked angry. "I know that's still a long time not to have said anything, but I just… I didn't know how to tell you."

"Who's his mother?" her tone was tepid.

"If you want to get technical, I guess I am."

"What? Dad, please…" she wasn't in the mood for him to be flippant.

"I carried both of them," he told her seriously.

"You…you what?"

He motioned her towards the trio of over stuffed chairs tucked up into one of the corners of his office. They were Ianto's idea, so there would be some place comfortable for people to sit. At the moment, however, he doubted that anything was going to make either of them any more comfortable. After his daughter sat down, he took the chair opposite her.

"What do you mean _you_ carried them?" Alice prompted him.

He took a sip of his coffee. This really wasn't the way he'd ever imagined this particular conversation going. "How much about me do you know?" he started by asking.

"Only what Mum told me. Which isn't much," she added when he gave her a questioning look.

"I was born in the fifty first century," he paused. She looked startled, but she nodded, accepting his statement as fact. He supposed that shouldn't surprise him. "By that time any couple or triad or whatever will be able to have children that biologically belong equally all parties in the relationship. Including most sexually compatible non-human species."

She paled. "That's still thousands of years from now, Dad. That doesn't explain…" she seemed unable to say their names.

"I had Jason a long time ago, by my personal time line. With…with my first partner," he paused to sip his coffee. He would hardly categorize his relationship with Jason's other father a partnership, but legally that's what had been. Emotionally, he knew it had been one-sided. Someday he would see Roan again, and he would ask him why he'd put up with everything he had.

"His name was Roan," Jack told his daughter. "When he died… when he died my mother, your grandmother, brought Jason here. She wasn't looking for me, but she found me anyway."

Alice swallowed. Took a moment to digest his words. Sipped at her coffee. "And the little girl?" she inquired at length.

"Seren as much Ianto's as she is mine, but I carried her. I already had the… it was easier for me since I'd already had Jason."

"How?"

"I have a friend. He took us to another time… another planet. Someplace where that kind of procedure is routine."

"And… you never…you never thought to mention_ any_ of this?" she demanded in an incredulous tone. "All this time I thought… I thought you were alone, Dad. I thought you didn't have anybody, that's why you wanted to be a part of mine and Steven's lives so badly. But you're not alone. Not only do you have a husband you have… you have _children_."

"That doesn't mean I don't love you. I have always loved you, so much. You and Steven. Losing you, losing your mother…"

"You walked out on me!"

"Alice…" she knew better, he knew she did. Lucia had told him to get out, to stay away. She'd changed their names, gone into hiding… as if that could have stopped him from finding them.

"You could have fought her, Dad. You could have fought for me! Instead you just walked away and… and you started another family. You started another life as if we'd never existed at all," she choked back a sob. This wasn't the conversation she'd wanted to have with him. "I have to go," she stood up.

He got to his feet as well. "Please don't—not like this."

"What difference does it make?" she asked. He had his own family to go home to, he didn't need her… he _hadn't _needed her…

"I never meant to hurt you, Alice, or your mother. She told me to get out so I did. I thought—I thought it was for the best."

"It was best for you."

He swallowed as the knot tightened in his gut. "It hurt me too."

"How…how much of this did Mum know? You… having babies… time travel…" her voice trembled. If he said he hadn't told her she would hate him… but if he had…

"She knew where I was from. When. I didn't tell her about Roan and Jason because they were so far away, that I _never _expected to see them again. I was stuck here on Earth, Alice, I had no way to get home. I've lived a long time," he reminded her, trying to make her understand. "I've lived so many lives. I never lied to your mother about that. I never lied to her about _anything_."

"You've spent your whole life running out on people, haven't you?"

"I can't go back, I can't fix the things I did wrong with you and your mother… if I could I would do so many things so differently. I loved her. I love you. The fact that I have other children doesn't change that, Alice. It never could."

"Are there any more?" she asked softly, still unable to look at him, unable to make eye contact.

Jack closed his own eyes a moment. He shoved his hands into his pockets. "About a hundred years before I met your mother, I was married to a woman named Laura. We had two daughters. Then she died."

"What happened?"

He shrugged. "The details don't matter any more. Her sister raised the girls. I never… I saw them, but they didn't see me."

"Did Mum…?"

"She knew."

She took a deep breath. Let it out. "She never told me…she never told me anything." She felt as betrayed by her mother as by her father, for all the things neither of them had ever told her. "Why didn't you marry her, Dad?"

"I asked. She said no. Alice…" he took a step closer but the expression on her face stopped him from reaching out to her.

"I…I need some time to think. This is too much all at once."

"Whatever you need. I'll be here. I will always be here."

She smiled just a little at the irony of his words, she couldn't help it. "I love you, Dad, I really do. I just… it's hard having someone like you for a father."

"I know. I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry," she turned, started to leave…but then hesitated at the door. She turned back around to face him again. His expression was difficult to read, but she knew he was hurting too. She knew he loved her, he always had. "Steven misses you," she told him.

"I miss him too," he made no attempt to hide the hopefulness of his tone.

"Maybe… maybe… holiday break starts soon. If you'd like to take him for the afternoon or something...?"

"Just let me know when's a good time."

Alice nodded. "I'll call you."

"Thank you."

A/N:


End file.
